


It's a Kind of Magic

by jovialien



Series: MagicVerse [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, not actually a high school AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 68,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jovialien/pseuds/jovialien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Way brothers, and Ray, and Bob, are special but they don't really notice it that much; it's just their lives.</p>
<p>Frank Iero is not special.  At all.  He's <i>different</i>, yes, he knows that.  Everyone at his old school knows that.  Everyone in his old town knows that.  Every fucking jock and wise guy who was after a bit of a distraction or punching bag knows he is different and tried to punish him for it.  But at least it was enough to get him out of that dump and into a new town, a new school, and maybe a new start.</p>
<p>But when he meets Gerard Way, he starts to learn that different isn't always a bad thing - and special is a term that covers an awful lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That's the thing with magic. You've got to know it's still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.”  
> Charles de Lint

Mikey Way is special.

Not in the sit at the back of the class with the safety scissors and glue way, although his geography teacher has implied it a few times.

Not in the 'Mummy's special little boy' way (although that is kind of true too.)

Not in the academically brilliant way, or the unbelievably attractive way, although he holds his own both in the classroom and the bedroom (or, at least, the back of the cinema).

To most of the world he isn't special at all. He's just a skinny little seventeen year old kid with dyed blonde streaks in his hair, weird glasses, and a liking for tight jeans and baggy tops. He is way too into bad horror movies and classic sci-fi to be considered cool. He can make a mean latte, earning his keep and a fair amount of tips in the process at the local coffee shop every Saturday and during the school holidays. 

Mikey's boss at the coffee shop doesn't quite understand how the kid does it, but every single order is perfect. I mean, perfect. The right temperature, the perfect blend, even down to the picture on the top drawn in the foam. Mikey doesn't speak much, his face impassive most of the time, no corporate smile or standard greeting and yet the customers love him; he remembers every single birthday and always has the right thing to say to cheer someone up or congratulate them on a good day. It's almost as though he can read their minds or something.

Which is ridiculous of course, because Mikey Way is just a normal teenage boy.

Except he really isn't. Mikey Way is special.

And he isn't the only one.

*************************************

Mikey's friends don't think he is that special. But then again, they are a bit special themselves. As far as anyone outside their group is concerned they are just another group of young men holding down day jobs and trying to stay out of trouble. They work, they hang out, they have fun, but there's still this feeling like something is missing, as though they are just waiting for something to happen. They can't put their finger on it, can't work out why their lives feel like a held breath, but something isn't quite right yet.

Ray Toro says it will sort itself out in the end. They just have to have faith. It's easy for Ray to say that; he's special. He just _knows_ these things. About the future, what's going to happen, he just knows. The others trust him. Mostly. It's not like he isn't always right in the end; it's just that he is sometimes a bit wrong about the details on the way.

Bob Bryar doesn't care. Bob just focuses on his work as a mechanic, on the cars and the machines, and trusts that the others will do the right thing and let him know when they need him. He always seems to be in a bad mood, but it's just an act, stress relief something his family believes in strongly. His dad does yoga, his mum jogs, and Bob, Bob drums. 

Sometimes when he drums it's as though he is a man possessed, his eyes closed and hands moving as though the drums are a part of him. To the trained ear, it sounds as though he has four hands, the pace almost inhuman, but he's just a normal guy who spends his days working in a garage, sprawled underneath a car. He's good at his job, and never has to come out from under the car for a forgotten tool. 

One of his customers once thought he saw a wrench go skidding across the floor into Bob's hand all on its own, but that's ridiculous. It's not like Bob can move things with his mind or anything.

That would make him special, and Bob would deny that.

Mikey's big brother knows Mikey Way is special. It fell to Gerard to explain it all to him, to sort out the whys and help him learn how to _be_ special – without being _too_ special. Gerard isn't the only one of course; mom tries her best but she lost her gifts twenty years ago (she does have a good knack with potions, lotions and spells sometimes, however, she claims that's just chemistry, cooking and lessons from their grandmother rather than any real gift. That she makes a really kick ass organic hair products range is just a coincidence and nothing special.)

Mikey and Gerard's grandmother is special. But nearly every doting grandson thinks that about his nan.

Not every nan can control the weather, help plants to grow, and charm the very birds from the sky though.

See, Gerard and Mikey's nan is _very_ special. She is sort of a witch. Not the evil kind with green skin and a black cat, nor the fluffy kind who wanders around all beautific smiles and rosy cheeks. She's not a Wiccan or a druid or anything like that and doesn't have a cauldron or broomstick (she goes to St Mary's every Sunday and prefers a Dust Buster). She can be scary as hell when crossed, or tender and caring when her grandsons need her, especially after a bad day at school.

Not every kid who gets bullied and beaten up in Gym gets to watch the entire football team get scared to death when their bus gets struck by a freak bolt of lightning. It's a good thing the vehicle acted like a Faraday cage and kept them from harm.

Or a bad thing, depending on your point of view.

And not every bullied kid, on turning seventeen, realises he has the power to heal people. To be able to tell when someone is in pain and help them through it. And to protect them too. Gerard's not sure if he could stop a bullet, and doesn't really want to find out, but a fist doesn't hurt as much any more. Him, or anyone he has chosen to protect anyway. The owner of the fist seems to react as though hitting a brick wall, but that's their problem.

And funny as Hell.

Being the grandchild of a witch has its advantages, but can be hard to explain to your mates. Which is why the Way brothers get on so well with Bob and Ray, who have a similar ancestry and totally get that need to keep the Solstice free, or to call round before visiting to avoid running into anything... unusual. Like Ray's mum floating around the ceiling to change a light bulb. Or Bob's dad scratching up the trees in the back yard in the run up to the full moon.

Y'know. Freaky shit. The sort of stuff that to other people belongs in bad horror movies and comic books.

To the Way brothers, and Ray, and Bob, it's just their lives.

Which are about to get seriously fucked up.

*****************************

Frank Iero is not special. At all. He's _different_ , yes, he knows that. Everyone at his old school knows that. Everyone in his old town knows that. Every fucking jock and wise guy who was after a bit of a distraction or punching bag knows he is different and tried to punish him for it. The last semester he spent there saw him left tied to the football goal in a storm for three hours until his mum found him. 

Pneumonia is Hell. But at least it was enough to get him out of that dump and into a new town, a new school, and maybe a new start.

Maybe. 

Still, it's something. It's not like he has anyone to miss really. His only friends were older and have gone off to college, and they can email him here as well as anywhere else. Not that Gabe and Pete are likely to _write_ exactly, they'll be too busy enjoying all the fun of college, but he's expecting random drunk texts and photos and maybe the occasional 2am phone call to wind him up. They keep promising him that if he holds on and just gets through the next couple of years it will get better.

Yeah. And pigs might fly.

Frank isn't looking forward to the new semester, but the town isn't so bad. There's enough work around for his mom to afford the new place, a few interesting looking shops, and the School football team sucks so hopefully won't have their heads up their own asses so much. Plus there's a weird story he found on the internet about people thinking the team have been cursed due to all the weird injuries the players get.

Frank really likes that idea far more than he dare admit to his mom.

Plus there's a cemetery up on the hill behind his house that looks like a good place to hide out, not to mention there's something soothing about the dead. He's certainly never had any trouble from them, unlike the living. They don't talk back and are fantastic listeners, plus they don't object to him smoking or drinking or try to get him to eat more protein. Maybe it's the whole being eaten themselves bit that makes them more open to him being a veggie.

All in all, there are signs of promise in the town. The only thing he wishes sometimes is that he still had someone around to celebrate his birthday with who will actually like the fact that it's October 31st; his mum has a weird thing about Halloween, claiming the drugs she was on whilst giving birth to him triggered a fucked up hallucination with all the Halloween decorations around. She hates everything Halloween related, not to mention magic and witchcraft. She wouldn't even let him buy the Harry Potter books, insisting they were nonsense. 

So, he borrowed them off Gabe, hides his more supernatural comic books under his mattress alongside his porn, and they always have birthday decorations up on October 31st instead of Halloween ones; it's always fairy cakes instead of jellied eyeballs, and trick or treaters get surprised by pointy party hats instead of pointy witch hats.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Frank wishes he could forget the family thing, ignore his birthday altogether, and just dress up and go out, pretend to be someone else for just one night and have some fun.

Maybe for his eighteenth.

But he has his seventeenth to get through first. Not that he expects to have anyone other than his mom to celebrate it with this year either. At least Gabe and Pete gave him a birthday to remember last year – just one he was never, ever, going to tell anyone about. Being greeted by a birthday text consisting of the words “ _so now UR legal_ ” had kindof set the tone for that day. 

God, he misses those two.

Looking out of the car window at the shops flashing past, Frank tries to think positive. He is going to be okay here, he is going to fit in.

Actually, he isn't.

Well, he is and he isn't.

Well, not in the way he _thinks_ he wants to fit in.

See, Frank Iero is completely normal (except for the dark clothes, dark hair, shit lungs, liking guys, geeky love of all things cult, and sometimes occult, a few scars up his arms and a funny shaped one on his back he doesn't remember getting). He's just a normal guy, dreading starting his new school, resigning himself to a life of enforced celibacy (at least until college), and hoping to make it through the semester without ending up in hospital again. Completely normal.

But he's about to learn that being normal is highly overrated.

********************************

Gerard Way is doodling in his notebook again, a coffee beside him in a cup so big it practically qualifies as a bucket. His pen is sketching over the page, marking out the frames of his latest comic creation even as Ray and Bob are in earnest discussion over the Poltergeist movies versus the short lived spin off TV series. 

The coffee shop's busy, the lunchtime crowd ebbing and flowing around the counter and the island of tranquillity that is Mikey Way. The rush never seems to phase him, actually very little does, but even when the shop's almost full there's always a table at the back for Gerard and the others. It is almost like an unspoken rule that it's their table, although that's less out of respect for them but more because, with their casual work schedules, there always seems to be one of them there. 

The comic book shop where Gerard works has an eclectic schedule, opening early in the morning and late evenings but closed for a few hours in the middle of the day. The hours were set a year ago and his boss still claims it was because their main customers are school kids who are in class during the day (and only shopped on their way to and from school) but Gerard always jokes that it was because the sci-fi channel was running repeats of all the Star Trek episodes over the lunch hours. 

It was actually something of a combination of the two, but Gee doesn't mind. Sometimes he works just the morning, or just the evening, depending on whether he has practice or plans with the guys. Sometimes he will work right through and kill time between shifts at the coffee shop, nursing a mug for a few hours.

Ray works a more normal 9 to 5 shift, his lunch hour swinging between midday and two depending on when he can get away. Its just a basic office job, hidden behind the scenes at the local bank, photocopying and running errands and gossiping with the admin team. The ladies love him, the work is pretty easy, and the money isn't bad. Plus filing's kind of soothing in an odd way. So much of his life is chaotic sometimes he takes pleasure in simply having b follow a and the rest fall in line all the way to z.

Bob on the other hand, Bob just... Heck, Bob just does whatever Bob likes. The garage he works at is his dad's and as long as the work gets done and everyone is happy things such as opening hours tend to be pretty flexible, especially around the full moon. As the cheapest (okay, only) garage in town, everyone copes with the Bryar family's eccentricities.

One of the local football players hobbles into the shop, a cast on his ankle, and Gerard instantly starts to fidget, tapping his foot against the floor and staring into space. He zones out for a moment, as though concentrating on something else before Mikey looks round from the counter. A second later Ray looks up from his green leaf tea, staring back at Mikey, before nudging Gerard.

“Dude, Mikey says cut it out, you're doing it again.”

Gee blinks, focusing again, and rubs his ankle distractedly. “Fucking footballers. Broken bones are itchy.”

“Could be worse,” Ray points out, “you're the only guy I know who gets what period pain is like.”

“You have no idea man,” Gee mutters darkly, “I am so fucking glad to be out of school. And tell Mikey to stay out of my head.”

“He can't get in _your_ head so stop complaining, at least you get some privacy.” Bob looks up from his coffee, a small swirling vortex of stirring activity within the cup suddenly going out of control and slopping over the sides, even though the spoon is on the table. “And you're fidgeting like you got an unexpected boner or caffeine jitters, we _all_ know what you're up to, doesn't take a mind reader.”

“Yeah, well, be helpful and distract me, okay?” 

“Or you could try and get your nan to uncurse the football team and reduce the number of broken limbs in town, it's been what, three years already?”

“She likes to teach lasting lessons.” Gee looks up as the footballer heads for the door, his girlfriend carrying the coffees, and lets out a sigh of relief as the itch fades. He grins as Mikey comes over, cloth in hand and a blue apron on over his clothes. “Mikey!”

Barely acknowledging his friends, Mikey leans over the table and starts to wipe up Bob's spilt coffee. “Bryar, just use the spoon whilst you're in here, or concentrate harder, I'm sick of wiping up your mess.”

Grabbing the cloth, Bob helps but doesn't look at all apologetic because, well, he doesn't do apologies. Nonetheless, he shrugs.

“It's harder with liquids, they're all... slippery.”

Rolling his eyes, Mikey glances at the others. “You guys still up for vampire fest tonight?”

Bob shakes his head and points up. “Moon. I gotta babysit dad.”

“We could do it at yours,” Gee suggests, grinning. “Howling would totally help the ambience.”

“Fine, but no alcohol, no way I'm being drunk in charge of a werewolf again, it's a fucking nightmare.”

“Where's your mom?”

“Planning meeting for the big Halloween hoo ha.”

“Boooooring,” Ray mutters, “never did get the whole dance naked under the moonlight bit-”

“Nudity is optional and really old school,” Gerard points out quickly, “it's usually just civvies and robes and shit, you would see way more on the beach in summer.”

Mikey snorts. “Even then, Gee never did it, he'd be hiding in a tent with his hands over his eyes and a teddy bear in his arms.”

“Mikeeeeeeeeeey,” Gee squeals, putting his face in his hands. “Dude, flashbacks!”

“Flashbacks?” Bob says quickly.

“Nearly Naked Nan time,” Mikey explains, patting Gee's hair sympathetically. “She claimed it helps channel the growing vibes or some shit. You've no idea how grateful he was when they decided we were old enough to stay home alone instead of going. Or how lucky you are you never got dragged along.”

“Amen to that,” Ray says, raising his mug and he and Bob clink them in a toast, Bob promptly spilling more coffee on the table.

“Fuck you.” Mikey wipes it up. “Anyway, haunted house planning tonight too?”

“Sounds good,” Ray says, closing his eyes and putting on his best mystic voice. “I forsee this year's Haunted House will be the best ever.”

“Yeah, well if you can foresee all the stuff we do for it, how about you just write it all down and we can just watch Vincent Price instead of working out if ghosts or vampires will be scarier this year.” Gee complains, but picks up his notebook and pen and starts sketching scary mask designs for them to wear anyway.

“Oh come on,” Bob says, shrugging as he finally starts to drink his coffee instead of spilling it over the table. “The four of us, one abandoned house, a bunch of drunk and horny High Schoolers, and supernatural powers on the most mystical night of the year, what could possibly go wrong?”

As Bob manages to spill coffee down his front, and Ray upturns his mug, letting the last of the tea drain – onto the table – so he can see the leaves, Mikey sighs and gives up, throwing the cloth at them before returning to the counter, almost looking forward to going back to school in a few days.

***********************************

Frank's first day as a junior goes pretty much as he expects.

He's welcomed and shown round by some geeky kid called Brendon who plays the Accordion of all things and, as soon as he realises Frank plays guitar, tries to get him to come to band practice.

His locker is, predictably, one of the shittiest, beat up, ones; it's miles away from any of his actual classes, scratches his hand as he tries to throw his books in, in a way that screams tetanus booster, and is in an area inhabited primarily by jocks, most of whom seem to be sporting some sort of injury.

Only his Spanish teacher manages to get his surname right first time, leaving him answering to Ear-o, Lero, I-ero and Yee-ro for most of the day.

The cafeteria's vegetarian chilli resembles puke and kind of tastes like it too. The salad looks as though it's been in the tray over the entire summer break.

The Goths give him evils for not being Goth enough, the Geeks ignore him for looking too trendy, the cool kids ignore him because, well, he has a sense of _individuality_ , and the Jocks... Oh come on, like they were ever going to take the weedy new boy with skinny limbs seriously.

On the plus side, he hasn't been beaten up yet so as first days back go, it still beats his old school.

Nonetheless, as he heads home it isn't exactly with a skip in his step and a song in his heart. In his head, yeah, Livin' on a Prayer (more specifically the line “we gotta hold on, ready or not”) going round and round all day until he can get his headphones on and interrupt it with something else for a bit. He has to concentrate on the walk home, still getting his bearings in the town, but he takes the wrong side alley by accident and stops short as he comes face to face with a life size replica Cylon. Slipping his headphones off, he walks around it slowly, looking up and down the figure.

“Cool.” 

Taking in the shop front behind it, Frank grins at the various comic book heroes painted faithfully onto the glass window, various scenes and faces greeting him like old friends. There is barely enough uncovered space to even see the shop beyond, a few action figures visible through the gap between Jean Grey's legs and the lighter paint of Iron Man's mask. The main shop sign identifies it simply as Charlie's Comics but the font is highly stylised and reminds him of something he can't quite put his finger on.

Figuring that, whilst he's here, he ought to check out the town a bit more, Frank pushes through the door, the usual jangling bell or harsh beep replaced instead by a Star Trek transporter sound. It's not much, but it's enough to cause a rustle of activity just beyond the beaded curtain hiding what Frank presumes is a staff area beyond.

“Be right with you!”

Nodding to himself, Frank pulls his bag tighter over his shoulder and wanders along the racks of comics and magazines, grinning widely as he takes in the range. This place is, there's no denying it, pretty awesome. It's dark, what little natural light gets into the alleyway blocked by the painted windows, and the light bulbs that are in there are either dim or roughly painted over with red, giving the whole shop an eerie kindof glow.

It's also cramped. There is just enough room between the racks for him to shuffle sideways along them and the walls are crammed with shelves full of model Daleks and Cylons and X-Men and Starships and a whole row of Star Wars action figures along the very top. Even the shelves themselves are painted with faces and action scenes and the ceiling has an entire starscape, complete with Imperial cruiser and Death Star. 

He's lost in a row of classic X-Men, his fingers itching in his jeans pockets from wanting to just grab and read all the comics, when the beaded curtain swishes.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting, anything I can help with?”

“Just looking, thanks, I-” As Frank glances round he's not sure why he seems to forget how to speak, but it's like someone has just jumped on his chest (and he knows all too well what that feels like) or he's stepped out of the house on a really cold day. It's a jolt to his system, like an electric shock (yep, he knows that one too), but there's something really familiar about the stranger, even though he is certain he would remember having seen anyone quite as beautiful as that before.

Okay, beautiful might not be the right word, Frank's brain admits, grinning to itself as it takes in the scruffy figure, but there's certainly something about him. Frank can feel his eyes roaming over the too long black hair that's sticking up in weird unwashed angles on one side, as though the guy's left hand has been wedged in it for an hour or two. There's a thick line of black marker along one cheek that for some reason Frank just wants to lick off, and the lighting in the shop is making the guy's cheekbones really stand out, even as it casts dark shadows around his eyes.

Not that the black circle of eyeliner isn't doing a good enough job of that on its own.

Maybe it's the Iron Maiden t-shirt that is making him stare rather than the guy himself. Maybe it's the Rebel Alliance symbol drawn onto his name badge, almost obscuring the G at the beginning of his name and making it look like erard instead. Maybe it's the way his fingertips are fucking filthy, graphite smudges turning them grey and making all his knuckles stand out as he scratches the back of his hand with his chipped black nails.

Maybe it's just that it's been a really long time since Frank got blown, or has met anybody he actually fancies, or is even half as cool as this guy seems to be.

Shaking it off as quickly as he can, Frank jerks a thumb back at the comics. “Love the collection.”

“Thanks.” The guy grins and Frank ignores the way his stomach does a weird belly flop onto his bladder. “Not seen you in here before.”

“Yeah, just moved.”

The guy stares at him, as though trying to figure something out. “Huh, could've sworn I've seen you around somewhere before.”

“I've got one of those faces,” Frank deadpans, waving his hand up and down his body. “Just blend in with the local scenery.”

The guy laughs, real, proper delight, and it catches Frank by surprise. It really wasn't that funny, but the way his smile lights up his face is contagious and Frank finds himself shuffling along the row to break free and edge his way to the counter. It's a bit like navigating a Pacman maze, getting round the shop, and any second now he half expects to run across a ghost.

“I'm Gerard, Gee,” the guy manages to choke out at last, extending a filthy hand towards him. Frank shakes it, trying not to notice just how incredibly warm he feels.

“Frank.”

They stand there, hands held for what surely must be longer than a normal handshake. It feels like an ice age to Frank, his hand on fire even as his lungs feel light, as though filled with extra oxygen (he's had that too, way too many times). His fingers almost feel tingly and he just enjoys the sensations for way too long before suddenly realising the guy is still just staring at him and holding his hand and looking like he is staring through Frank rather than at him. It's intense, like all the light bulbs just got ramped up to 11, and he can't take it.

Letting go, Frank tries to grin apologetically even as Gerard blushes, the red bulbs hiding the worst of it but there's still just enough of a hint to give him away.

“Uh, pleased to meet you.” Gee quickly busies himself shuffling through some flyers on the counter before pulling one out. “Listen, as you're new and all, we do a 10% discount on your first purchase, we do a lot of online orders and shit and try to match the deal, and uh...” He digs deeper and starts almost throwing leaflets into Frank's hands, as though determined to fill them to avoid the temptation to grab them again. “Our opening hours... that one will give you discount at the coffee shop, here's, like, an events schedule for the cinema and studio, they sometimes do gigs and dance stuff there, and uh, oh!” 

Gerard grins and runs back behind the beaded curtain, the beads catching the lights as he moves and trying to wrap themselves around his limbs as he charges through.

Frank can understand the temptation.

He returns brandishing a hand drawn and cheaply copied flyer on bright orange paper that's covered with drawings of ghosts, goblins and some seriously fucked up skeletons coming out of a creepy Haunted House. “Haunted House at Halloween! You gotta come, me and my friends run it, it's two dollars to get in and the money goes to upgrading the studio, in the vain hope of like encouraging some real music in this town. Oh and there's madame Toro, who's actually Ray, for one silver coin he'll tell your future. Or, at least, some part of it, he's crap at grades and useful shit.”

Frank has no space left in his hands, but on impulse leans forward and opens his mouth. After a second, Gee smiles shyly and places the flyer between his lips, eyes lingering as Frank closes his mouth around it, holding it tight. With a sudden flurry of activity, Frank manages to flip open his bag and shove the rest of the flyers in before pulling the Haunted House one out of his mouth and looking at it properly.

“Looks cool, great art.”

“Thanks,” Gee says, almost blushing again. “I drew it.”

“No way...” Frank runs his fingers over the flyer then spots something familiar about it. Looking back again at the window, then the walls, his jaw drops. “You did... Did you draw all this too?”

Gee nods, red again, and Frank swallows hard. Taking in the drawings, and looking again at the guy in front of him, Frank suddenly feels really young. Gerard is older, has a proper job, is a fucking _artist_ and way, way out of Frank's league. It's not like he hasn't been friends with older guys and all that, but this guy should be in like college or working for Marvel somewhere and it hits him hard.

Smiling politely, Frank folds the flyer in half and puts it in his jeans pocket, nodding. “Halloween? I dunno if I can, family stuff, but maybe I'll see you there.”

“I'd like that,” Gee says, then for the love of God bites his lip; Frank instantly decides age is just a number and who cares if he's older, the worst that can happen is they end up just friends.

No, actually, his traitorous brain points out, the worst that can happen is that Gee is straight and a freaking homophobe and Frank ends up looking like a right lecherous schmuck, gets outed as gay and gets beaten up by the entire school and tied up again, except by his neck this time.

Tilting his head to one side and appraising Gerard with as much gaydar as he can muster, Frank decides that the odds are in his favour and, for Gerard, it might be worth the risk.

A clock somewhere in the shop starts playing the Buck Rogers theme and Frank startles, looking at his watch and wincing. He really needs to go.

“Listen, uh, thanks, and uh, maybe I'll see you around, y'know, when I use my voucher.” Frank grins, feeling really lame.

“I'm here most days, or hanging about in the coffee house, so, yeah, I'll keep an eye out for you.”

“Yeah, you too.” Chucking a thumb towards the door, Frank starts to reverse out of the shop before catching his bag on a precariously placed Jabba the Hutt model and almost sending it flying. Straightening it, he throws one last smile at Gee before almost running out the door and back into the daylight.

He's halfway home before he notices the scratch on the back of his hand seems to have faded already.

****************************************

Gerard is so focused on his notepad, the paper resting on his lap as he sits cross legged in the huge armchair, that he barely notices when Bob's dad sticks his head around the door shortly before sunset. His dark burgundy towelling robe covers his pre change nudity and the fluffy bunny slippers are old and worn but still oddly intact. The large dog bowl in his hand is filled with raw meat covered with a dusting of green herbs and Gerard tries not to notice it too much.

“You boys be good up here, alright, feel free to raid the fridge or order takeout or something.”

“Thank you Mr Bryar,” Mikey and Ray chime, shifting on the couch and dropping the leads from the game controllers to the floor as Bob steps over them to go lock his dad up. The noises of the game almost block out the thud of the heavy door and shifting bolts, and Gee goes back to his work, shading in a stray lock of hair on the figure in his book.

“So,” Bob says when he returns, wiping his hands on his jeans and watching as the boys save their game and switch it off. “Haunted House.”

“Haunted House,” Ray echoes spookily.

“And the mysterious Madame Toro,” Mikey says quickly, ruffling Ray's hair. “You do look good in a veil.”

“What can I say, I love the dress, there's something about a bit of bling every now and then,” Ray shrugs unconcernedly. It's not like, at over six foot tall , anyone is seriously going to give him grief for dragging up for a good cause. 

Besides, he really _does_ look strangely hot in a veil and big gold earrings.

“Dad and I will do the trapdoors and stuff as usual,” Bob says, pointing to the floor. “I'm thinking more drop from the ceiling stuff this year, we played out the walls pretty well last year.”

“Drama techs are covering the lighting for us,” Mikey says, “and I've got that Urie kid doing some creepy accordion tunes for background, can throw in a little guitar scream every now and then too.”

“Which just leaves the art,” Ray says, glancing at Gerard.

He's still intent on his shading and doesn't even notice.

“Gee,” Ray says, a smile in his voice as he puts on his best teacher voice, “you wanna share with the whole class?”

Gerard startles, almost knocking his pad to the floor and drags his fingers through his hair, leaving a fresh smudge of ink on his cheek. “Oh, right, yeah I've got some killer mask designs for us this year, and I'm thinking of a zombie type theme, lots of gore and blood and bones.”

“Mum's fake blood is an awesome recipe,” Mikey admits, getting up to sit on the arm of the chair next to Gerard. “We can also get some slime done-” He breaks off, what passes for Mikey for a smile breaking out and his eyebrow raising curiously before he leans over to get a better look at Gerard's drawing. “Geeeeeeeee. Who's the hottie?”

Gerard fumbles the pad again, tugging it up to his chest, but not fast enough. With a wave of his fingers Bob snatches the pad into thin air and floats it across the room to his hand. Frowning, he flicks through the pages as Ray looks over his shoulder.

“Don't! They're... They're not ready, I'm just messing around.”

Gerard can feel Mikey's gaze boring through his skull, a warm hand on his shoulder as the telepathic little sneak tries to read his mind and closes his eyes. A slight shimmer of blue dances over his skin as he repels the probe, snapping Mikey back into his own brain.

“Fuck, I was just curious! You know I can't get anything useful anyway.” Mikey rubs his temples, feeling as though he's been struck with an elastic band, and slips off the arm before jumping off the chair and up onto the sofa to see the pad over Bob's other shoulder. It takes Gerard a few seconds to untangle his limbs and get off the chair to try and snatch the pad back, but he's already bright red and Bob is holding it above his head.

“I just... It's a new character I'm working on, okay?”

Ray grabs the pad off of Bob and passes it back, but there's a look on his face that Gerard just knows means he _knows._ Fuck. They don't need Mikey's mind reading with Gee, they all just know him too well anyway. Fuckers.

“What's his name?” Ray asks softly, giving Gerard an encouraging smile.

“He's just...” Gerard gives up and drops back into the chair, hiding under his hair. “Frank. He came in the shop today and I just... He has interesting lines.”

“We can see that,” Bob mutters and Ray elbows him. Mikey is beaming from ear to ear with glee, (actually, just the edges of his lips have moved, but for him it's like he's jumping up and down squealing like a kid) and Gee just knows he's not gonna hear the end of this.

“So, did you get his number?” Mikey asks at last, jumping off the sofa to bounce back over to Gee's chair and ruffle his hair, before removing his hand and wiping it on his jeans. He loves his brother but seriously, shampoo should not be an optional extra in life.

“It's not like that,” Gee mumbles.

Ray, Bob and Mikey exchange looks that just scream 'It so totally is!'

“He's just a customer, I was just being friendly, and he would make a good zombie hunter. 'Sides, why would _he_ ,” Gee says, pointing at the stunning figure he's drawn in his pad, all sharply defined features and inviting eyes, “be interested in someone like me?”

“Because you're awesome?” Ray suggests, crouching down in front of him.

“Yeah, and a freak,” Gee points out, “come on, what am I gonna say to him, 'hi, I'm a descendant of a long line of witches, my nan cursed the local football team and makes sure it rains on Stewey Pennebaker's birthday every single year 'cause of that incident with the car, when she's not making sure the local crops are some of the best in the state or growing the best, like, everything. My brother can read your mind, so you'd better not cheat on me or even think about me whilst around him. Oh and if I lose control I try to start healing everyone in town just to stop itching with their fucking illnesses, or if you startle me there's a chance I could knock you through a wall by accident.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Bob says before Gee interrupts him.

“And then there's my best friends, a guy who can move anything he wants with his mind, as long as it isn't a liquid-”

“Fuck you, I'm working on it.”

“-and a guy who can literally tell you your future, just not the bits you actually want to know, more what you're going to have for lunch next Thursday and whether your new haircut will suit you or not.”

“Mum's getting me a new crystal ball to try and bring the details through,” Ray pouts. “And I can dream about important stuff, I just-”

“Don't always remember it quite right,” Bob says, grinning slightly. “Like where, when and who.”

“It makes sense after the events happen though.”

“Look, guys, it's not that I like this dude,” Gerard says, then blushes at the identical incredulous looks they give him. “Okay, you know me, I think he's cute, but it's not like I can do anything about it. He's a, well, a muggle. And I'm...”

“Not.” Mikey whispers it, but leans in close to his brother, lending support. “That's not a big deal, just look at mum and dad.”

“Yeah, least your gifts are pretty easy to hide, not like,” Bob stopped as, right on cue, the sun sets and the faint sounds of his dad howling reaches them through the floor. “You should hear mum go on about finding out about THAT little secret.”

“I guess, I just, after what happened last time, with Bert and all... Look, can we just watch the film already?”

Nodding, the guys move, Mikey dragging Gee out of the chair and over to the sofa to cuddle up next to him, digging his toes in under Gee's thigh. Bob grabs the pizza menus and starts putting through their order and Ray picks out the first DVD. 

**************************

Frank never dreams. Not that he remembers anyway. But that night is... intense. When he wakes up at 3am, face down on his bed and with his dick half buried in his covers, sore from rubbing against them, he certainly remembers what caused it. 

Or, more accurately, who.

As he rolls over and starts to jerk himself off, trying to relieve the pressure, he can still _feel_ the dream so vividly, the smell of wet leaves and dirt, the feel of the damp soil against his spine, the warmth of Gee pressed against him, Frank's arms trapped between them, even the smell of ink and cigarette smoke and sweat and hair, it's all so _real_ still. He's never dreamt like this before.

As he comes, the imagined taste of Gerard on his tongue, the remembered fire of his touch on Frank's skin, he can't help biting down hard on his lip, the faint tinge of blood in his mouth, and just before he falls asleep again, he realises that he could taste that in the dream too.

***************************************

Gerard rarely dreams, not his own dreams anyway. When Mikey first got his gift, he had been wide open to the world and a thousand borrowed nightmares and dreams would sneak into his head as he slept. Gee had learned to block them out for him whilst he got control, to watch over his brother's dreams, the matching of their sleeping minds the closest they ever got to be. He's seen Mikey's nightmares, and he is always grateful Mikey missed most of Gee's most horrific dreams.

This time though, there's no denying it's his dream.

He can see everything in the dim glow of his TV, smell the butter on his popcorn from earlier, hear the faint sound of the movie he has on in the background. He can feel hands gripping onto his wrists so tight it hurts, but he's not afraid, the restraint doesn't hurt him, it's somehow comforting, being so out of control.

He can taste the lips pressing so hard against his, and he isn't even sure who it is at first until they break off for a second, dark eyes staring up at him with such intensity it burns, as though there is something more than human there, something deeper, something so powerful-

He pushes back, lurching up against Frank and kisses him back, fierce, their teeth clashing and lips splitting, the taste of blood mixing with popcorn and beer and it's kindof gross but good and so real, so _them_ he could come just from the taste of it-

Gerard wakes up with a groan, his hand pressed between his legs, palming his cock even as he regains consciousness. The dream is fading, the imagined pressure of Frank's body replaced by Gee's hand and sheets, but he claws onto the memory as hard as he can, careful to keep his mind and mouth shut tight, fearful of being overheard in any way. Yet as he comes he can't help whispering Frank's name to the night, those dark eyes sending a jolt of fear through him that he can't quite explain. He doesn't know why he's scared.

He just knows he likes it.

*****************************

Ray dreams all the time. All. The. Fucking. Time. Every night, every afternoon nap, every sneaky five minutes in the archives on a quiet day at work, every long car journey (when he's not driving, obviously), every single time he goes to sleep, no matter how long for or where. He always dreams. And he never sleeps through the night, not in one go anyway.

He didn't used to have this problem, but every single night since his seventeenth birthday has been the same. Go to sleep, spend the entire night running, walking, flying, pole vaulting and parachuting through his dreams, seeing all sorts of freaky shit, wake up breathless and confused or terrified or lost and completely surprised to be Ray Toro in Ray Toro's bed and Ray Toro's life.

See, that's the thing about being a prophet. He sees the future. Not his own, and not the lottery numbers or who's gonna win the Superbowl, sometimes not even anything that makes sense or is in a language he understands or a place he can recognise. Sometimes it's just flashes, an image, like a photograph on a wall, giving him a clue to something he can't figure out.

His mum reassures him that, one day, with enough practice, it will all become easier. He will be able to pick out the details properly and make real predictions, and maybe even stop some of the disasters and pain he sees each night from coming true. The meditations help, the prayers focusing him, scrying, tea leaves, and crystal balls, they're all such a cliché but they are helpful. The dreams are becoming clearer, the jolt back to himself easier to take and the details staying in his head longer.

Tonight he wakes up just twice, his sleepy hand reaching out for the book light, pad and pen by his bed and pulling them closer. The light is dim, easy on his eyes to help avoid him waking up fully, and he scribbles on the pad, a few clear details coming through this time, a first name, Jessie, a tabby cat, and something he can't quite interpret but looks like a weird wobbly ladder emerging from the first dream. It's not a nightmare, just a weird dream, and he drifts off again easily.

The second dream is harsher, a scream caught in his throat as he wakes, and just a couple of flashes of image in his mind. There's blood, a splash of it, like the spray he's seen in horror films and it's on white paper, weird and wrong, looking like red ink but too thick, too bright to be so benign. The second image is weirder, somehow familiar to Ray even as he can't figure out where from. It looks like a bird's footprint, a stick with three branches coming off the top, and it's small, just a tiny mark, and he gets the impression of it being hidden and secret. There's a dot above it that looks out of place, a slightly different colour.

Groaning, he scribbles his notes and draws the symbol in his pad and tries to shake off the bad feeling before falling asleep again.

*******************************

Mikey dreams of riding a unicorn through a bright, sunlit forest. He knows it isn't his dream; for a start he doesn't think he has long blond hair in bunches, and the pretty pink dress doesn't suit him. When he thinks about it when he wakes up, he will remember the little girl two doors down has a stuffed Unicorn doll and will figure out it's her dream.

Right now, he's just enjoying the ride. He hadn't realised before just how _awesome_ unicorns could be.

*****************************

Bob doesn't dream. He doesn't sleep, he just sits up all night, watching bad TV, listening to his dad howling, and waiting for the sun to rise.

*******************************

Mikey Way is halfway across the cafeteria when something catches his eye. No, not something, someone. The flash of black is not enough on its own to stand out, but the flick of hair stirs something familiar in Mikey's mind and he stops and looks.

There. Gee's zombie hunter.

He's... He's really not as hot as Gerard has drawn him, but his brother always did have that whole artists eye thing going on. The drawings made him look older, stronger, or maybe it's just that Gee can see what the short arsed guy thumping the soda machine is going to grow up to be. It's definitely him though, the hair is the same, and the bag slung across his body all too distinctive. Plus those cheekbones clinch it. 

He is cute, and there's definite potential there, but Mikey can't quite see the attraction.

Shrugging, he glances round as Nick grabs him arm and points to a table, nodding in reply, and when he turns back the Zombie Hunter is gone.

***************************************

Frank makes it through the first week and a bit without major incident. He brown bags it to avoid the cafeteria food, manages to time his locker runs for after the main rush, has sourced out the hidden spots on the grounds for a cigarette, stuck duct tape over the jagged edge of his locker, and managed to teach all the teachers his name.

He has even had the easiest football practice of his life. The coach has a weary dead eyed look and spends so much time trying to keep his players from hurting themselves, he really doesn't care about the slacker kids, instead leaving them to 'practice passes' and do laps. As long as they are doing _something_ every time he looks over he doesn't seem to give a fuck what they do.

Which suits Frank just fine.

The cemetery and old church up behind his house exceed all expectations, and seem pretty much deserted at all hours, or at least, nobody cares about a skinny little kid sneaking around the gravestones to get a sneaky cigarette. He's respectful and never sits or walks on the graves themselves (as far as he can tell anyway), bins his leftover butts, idly picks weeds out of the flowerbeds for something to do with his hands, and if anyone is in the cemetery he skirts around it and gives them space. 

Sometimes he gets the creepy feeling on the back of his neck, like he's being watched, and can hear a rustle in the trees like someone's there, but there never is when he looks. It's creepy, but he likes it, each jump sending a jolt of fire through his body that makes him grin. This would be a fucking awesome place to bring a date, getting all creeped out together and staying close for comfort, and warmth, and... everything else.

He's settling in and his Mom even seems to be enjoying her new job, a spring in her step that he hasn't seen for a while, like she's finally able to relax a bit. She's even singing along with the radio again and talking about getting her hair done and going shopping. She's happy. He's missed that.

All in all, it's actually been a pretty sweet week. Admittedly he doesn't exactly have any friends or anything, but so far he doesn't have any enemies and that's a big improvement.

Plus he has some money in his pocket and there's a new issue of X-Men out that he has been thinking about. All week. Pretty much every idle moment of the week actually. He likes comics and gets them a lot but he's never had full blown daydreams (and fucking intense regular dreams) about going comic book shopping before.

Then again, he's never shopped somewhere like Charlie's Comics. Or been served by someone like Gerard. 

This is insane. 

And yet as his feet steer him towards the comic book shop he feels as though he's getting lighter. It's just a crush, just a stupid crush. Like the time he touched Billie Joe Armstrong's hand in the line outside a concert and felt his heart shake. It was less a 'I want to fuck you' thing and more a 'when I grow up I want to be...' deal. This is just like that, Gee's a cool older guy, maybe a mentor type.

Except, the daydreams he's been having about licking that marker off his cheek and dropping to his knees behind that counter aren't exactly mentorly. 

Forcing himself to blow out a deep breath, Frank shifts his bag on his shoulder and runs his fingers through his hair then back again to straighten the fringe hanging over his forehead. He feels like he has 'I want you' stamped on his forehead and a neon sign pointing to his crotch where he can feel himself starting to twitch a little. This is crazy, the guy can't be that cute, he can't be as hot as Frank remembers, it's just his memory playing tricks. Gerard isn't that hot.

As he pushes through the door, the transporter sound beaming him in, a hopeful face peers around the beaded curtain and grins broadly. “Frank! Good to see you again!”

Frank's right, Gee isn't as hot as he remembers. He's hotter. How the fuck is that even possible?

“Hey. Uh, yeah, gotta use that coupon, and uh, new X-Men is out, so-”

“Oh God, yeah, it's awesome! There's this whole huge battle and Professor X just goes all-” Gee stops, his hands dropping from their mad descriptive orbits around his body to dig into his pocket and rub the back of his head in a way that makes Frank want to just touch that revealed patch of skin on the side of his neck. “Sorry, you probably want to actually read it yourself. Front row, in the corner over there.”

“Thanks, good to know it's worth the wait though.”

“Oh totally!” Frank shifts and shuffles his way through the racks, almost catching his bag on one again – seriously, they need to rethink the layout in here, there isn't even enough room to swing a fly let alone a cat – and follows Gee's pointing finger to the right stand. He totally isn't thinking about turning around grabbing that finger and sucking on it, black ink and all...

He's picking up the comic when he notices a darkly covered Gothic horror style comic stuck into a box on the end, with the dymo label “new artists” on and a big cheap neon star saying “free”. Pulling the comic out, he has to hold it up to the light to make out the creepy figure staring back at him from beneath the title _'On Raven's Wings'_ and grins. “Cool.”

“Oh,” Gee calls, his fingertip making small circles on the counter. “Yeah, those are freebies, you can help yourself.”

“For real?” Frank can't believe his luck and wanders back over to the counter, only banging his thigh on the shelves once. He barely notices as he flicks through the comic and puts the X-Men down on the counter for Gerard to ring up. “Whose this Garry Way dude, he's got skills!” 

“Uh, thank you. He, uh, I mean, it's me.” Frank looks up, confused. “I'm Gerard Way, but I did that one under the name Garry, y'know, in case it, uh, sucks.” Gee is blushing again and suddenly Frank has to really damp down the urge to grab onto the counter and pull himself up and just kiss him. 

“You.” Holding the comic up, Frank grins. “You wrote this?”

“Yeah, but it kindof fell through. Just one of those things.”

“But... But you've got real talent man, you should totally go to art school or something!”

Gee looks down, as though steeling himself for something, and shrugs. “Maybe next year, I gotta stick around and help out with my little brother at the mo. But once he graduates, we might head out of town. It's only another year, less really, and 'sides, Charlie would go bust without me.”

Frank laughs, it only just occurring to him that 'Charlie' of Charlie's comics is a real guy and not some voice on a box like in Charlie's Angels, and shakes his head. “You should totally go for it, it'd be awesome.” 

“Maybe.” Gee shrugs, biting the edge of his lip, and Frank can feel his body starting to betray him again. Handing over the money for his comics, he watches as Gerard swings back into action, ringing them through and handing them over slowly, as though looking for an excuse to keep him there longer. “Enjoy.”

“Cheers.” Stuffing them into his bag, Frank shrugs it back onto his shoulders and hesitates, trying to think of something else to say. He's never usually this bad, but he can't quite figure out how to say 'excuse me, but are you gay, if so, can I please kiss you?'. Usually he'd just make a move and either get kissed back or punched, but at least he'd know. 

Of course, most of those occasions have involved alcohol and at least the excuse of being drunk to make the next day a little easier.

As the silence drags on, Frank suddenly moves, nodding to himself and heading to the door, wanting to get out of there before he makes a complete fool of himself by doing something crazy, like vaulting the counter and shoving Gerard behind that beaded curtain.

“Uh, I'll see you later.”

“Right, yeah,” Gee says, sounding a little flustered, probably wondering why the weird kid is still just lurking in the shop instead of going home already. 

Kicking himself, Frank hurries out of the shop and tries not to feel like an idiot.

****************************************

Gerard is supposed to be working on Halloween designs, werewolves and ghosts and goblins and everything spooky he can think of, but instead he finds himself sketching zombies and graveyards.

And a certain pale face, kicking ass, dark fringe falling in front of his face, and his short figure darting among and jumping off gravestones with ease. 

Gerard wants to design masks for the others. He wants to work on updating the mural design in the old bathroom of the house. He wants to think about where a dash of fake blood or slime will enhance the dummies and if he has time to sculpt a new gargoyle for the guttering.

Instead, almost as though working of its own accord, his fingers more tirelessly over his notebook, his sketchpad, the backs of fliers, any surface they can find, drawing the lines of Frank's cheekbones, or the dark of his eyes. It's obsession, like habit or a nervous tic, and it makes his skin itch with a tingle he usually associates with the need for a drink. 

When he catches himself drawing on the side of the counter, in the space under the top, an outline of Frank's profile taking shape on the dark wood, he pulls back and throws the pen across the shop, rubbing his hands through his hair as though trying to drag the urge from them.

“Fuck.” 

Gerard blinks, looking down at the counter, and finally notices the pages of his books, the spell seeming to lift as he takes in the repeated face staring back at him. He doesn't even remember drawing half of them, his hands covered in black ink and pencil smudges, and he's even drawn over the zombie make up he had designed for Mikey without noticing. 

Shouting out wordlessly, Gerard grabs the books and starts tearing the pages out, ripping up the images and stuffing them into the bin, trying to tear the obsession from his body as easily as the paper. 

 

******************************

The cemetery is quiet, the wind still and the trees no longer talking to him in their own way, as Frank picks his way through the plots to the older sections behind the church. The graves are more overgrown here, no bright flowers breaking up the green, and the moss covering the names turning the place into a little grotto, nature reclaiming the hallowed ground.

Perfect.

Throwing his bag down onto the ground, he picks a spot leaning against the back of one of the taller headstones, the weak autumn sun filtering through the trees surrounding the cemetery to dapple over his skin. For all his paleness, he doesn't actually dislike the sun, but it's not like he's in any serious risk of sunburn, his long sleeves pulled down to his knuckles and his hair covering half his face. His knees, poking through his jeans, are perhaps catching a little bit more vitamin D than the rest of him, but not enough to worry about. Maybe even enough to help stave off the winter coughs this time.

Fat chance. Still, Frank leans back against the stone and raises his face to the sun, watching the flicker of the light through the leaves as he lights up. It's so quiet, not even a twig snapping bird nearby, but he can't quite shake the feeling someone else is there. It's not scary, but he can feel the hairs on the back of his neck reacting as he looks around the empty graveyard. 

The smell of moss and damp is pretty strong, and the headstone is cold against his back, but it's a safe place to sneak a smoke and he can see his house, the slight hill on which the church stands giving him a view down over the surrounding houses. The trees block most of the view, but the fall colours are starting to thin it enough in places for him to see his drive. He can see when his mom pulls up and have time to pinch off his smoke and start his gum and body spray cover up routine.

Even so, the seasons are changing and he will have to find somewhere else to hide out before it gets too cold. The air is touched with a definite autumnal chill and he can feel the cold seeping through his layers, fighting with the sun warmed blacks and greys. It's a strange balance, as though just a wisp of cloud could decide the battle, but it feels so good. Especially compared to the artificial warmth of the hospital.

Finishing up, Frank puts out his cigarette and palms the butt, dragging himself back to his feet and pulling his bag back across his body. Glancing at the half obscured name on the gravestone he'd been leaning against, Frank nods and places his fingertips on the top gently.

“Same time tomorrow, Bertha?” Tapping the cold stone, he nods to himself and slouches off down the slope to home.

*********************************************

Frank is lonely, there's really no denying it. His mom doesn't get home from work until at least six, and their cable isn't hooked up yet so there's nothing but DVD's he's already seen, comics and magazines he's already read, and homework waiting for him at home.

So he goes for coffee, he hangs out in the cemetery, he smokes way too much and wastes far too much time online. But he's still bored, and so lonely, and he finds himself drifting in a slowly decreasing orbit around the Cyberman and Charlie's Comics. He tries to hold on as long as he can but eventually he ends up back at the door.

It's a shop, it's not like he's a crazy stalker or anything. He's just another comic book geek who can't resist spending an afternoon flicking through the comic book stacks.

Oddly enough, he's not actually the only one, a couple of younger kids regularly beating him to the Marvel section and arguing loudly over whether the new films messed up or not. There's also an older guy who just personifies the stereotypical D and D player, always hanging round the counter and chatting to Gerard as though Gee is the only human he's actually had contact with today. 

Frank likes the company, listening in to the arguments and shared excitement, and Gee's voice rising above it all, gleeful and happiest when talking about the comics or the latest RP game. It lets him lurk in peace, not feeling weird, and just hanging out somewhere he doesn't feel like a freak. He manages to get away with visiting every few days, each visit like a balm to his soul if not his pocket; it's hard to resist buying something, if only to have a few seconds direct contact with Gerard and not feel guilty for hanging out so much.

Occasionally though the shop is empty when he gets there, just the tinny sound of Gerard's radio coming through from the back room. Of course Gee comes out and being Gerard, they chat. About anything. Everything. Comics and TV and movies and just everything. It's daft stuff, nothing serious, nothing that matters, but it's everything to Frank.

It also does nothing to dampen down his crush. He can't help it, he's flirting, he can feel it, he's fucking flirting. It's stupid and crazy and just plain nuts.

What's more crazy is he's sure Gee is flirting back. All they need is a chance to see each other outside of the shop.

But when the offer finally comes it isn't exactly what Frank had in mind.

“So your brother's what,” Frank asks with a smile, leaning on the counter and playing with one of the leaflets as casually as he can, “a senior?”

“Yeah, actually he just turned 18 so we're all heading to the cinema this weekend for the big sci-fi film fest, Terminator, Dune, Blade Runner, all the classics. You can bring sleeping bags and everything.” He roots around on the counter under the huge mess of flyers and pulls out yet another one, this time with the movie schedules on and Frank's heart sinks at the big 'over 18's only' on the ad for the sci-fi night. Gee just stands there grinning for a moment and Frank isn't quite sure what to say. Is he just chatting still?

“Uh, sounds cool.”

“Yeah, totally.” Gee grins for a bit longer then suddenly bursts into life again, as though realising he's been forgetting a little something, like, actually _inviting_ Frank instead of just showing off his awesome social life. “You should totally come too! You can meet Mikey and the guys, it would be fun!”

“I, uh,” Frank swallows hard and rubs the back of his neck, suddenly wishing he hadn't come in here today, if he'd just waited until next week, if he hadn't started flirting already, it would have been too late for the movies and it wouldn't be an issue. “I can't, I'm not eighteen yet.”

Gee waves his hand and shrugs. “We can get round that, when's your 18th birthday?”

“October.”

“See! That's so soon we can get you in-”

“Next year,” Frank adds in a quiet voice, his heart sinking. “I'm, uh, I'm sixteen.”

“You're,” Gee looks like Frank just told him he's run over his puppy. “You're sixteen?”

“Only for another month and a half.”

“Right.” Gee looks almost scared, a guilty flash over his face before he shrugs and tries to bluff it off. “Okay, so no movies, but uh, you should totally meet Mikey, be good to know someone else your own - I mean, at school right? So, uh, maybe coffee sometimes?”

Frank feels like mould, like the really green stuff surrounded by grey that he used to scrape off the bread before putting it out for the birds back at his old house. Who the fuck was he kidding, he's just a kid, fuck in some states he's still a minor. And Gee is-

Not. Really, really not.

Swallowing hard, Frank nods, distracting himself by rooting round in his bag for his money and quickly handing over the cash for his comic before shoving it in his bag. “Yeah, that'd be cool, uh, I should get going.”

He's halfway out the shop before Gee calls his name, something in his voice making it sound like a plea. “Frank? Uh, could I get your number? For, uh, for Mikey?”

For Mikey. Yeah, 'cause Gee's _little brother_ who is still a whole _year_ older than Frank is much more age appropriate. Maybe he's hot too, maybe he is like a mini Gerard.

Yeah, right.

Turning around, Frank forces a smile on his face and takes the pen Gee offers and scribbles his name and number on the back of the movie flyer and hands it to him. “Yeah, get Mikey to text me or something. Be good to have more... friends.”

“Yeah.” Gee takes the paper and his fingers brush Frank's and oh shit, if he doesn't get out of here now he's going to do something he will really regret.

“Right, uh, thanks for the comics!” Frank practically bolts out the shop, not noticing the crushed look Gee gives him, not slowing down until he's a couple of blocks away. Lighting up a cigarette he leans against the wall and fights back tears like some stupid kid. He didn't cry when they were beating the shit out of him, not even when they were sticking him with fuck knows what in hospital, but this has him pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes like a fucking toddler. It's not like he was actually gonna get anywhere with Gee anyway, but still, there was the hope of something. Something he hadn't realised quite how much he wanted until now.

Blowing out the smoke and coughing as it irritates his sensitive lungs, he savours the pain, letting it ground him again. This is his life, and he doesn't get to have cool guys like Gerard in it.

Maybe his little brother will be cool too.

Snorting to himself, Frank kicks a stray stone clear across the street, impacting against a car and setting off its alarm, and hurries away, shoulders slumped as he wishes for rain from the crystal blue sky.


	2. Chapter 2

Bob has tuned out most of what Ray is saying as they walk home. It's for the best. He's raving on about some nutrition thing or calorie count or some other such crap that makes Bob want to just hold him down and force feed him burgers. Or hot dogs. Tasty, long, hot dogs-

Bob quickly shies away from that thought. It's not that he has any issues being in touch with his... flexible side, as Mikey once put it; he doesn't freak out at the odd homoerotic thought. (He's friends with Gerard Way, who is ridiculously tactile sometimes, and puts up with the odd inappropriate bodily response to the touching, he has no hang ups over THAT.) But not only does he know deep down that he is 100% straight and aside from maybe a snog would never follow through, this is _Ray_. He loves him, 'course, but it's different. He's his best friend.

Plus Mikey would tease him re-fragging-lentlessly if he picked up on it.

He barely notices the conversation really, just nods and hums at the right moments, his attention on the setting sun and evening sky instead. Even though the werewolf thing isn't inheritable as such, he still feels drawn to the moon sometimes, loving the way she hides behind the wispy clouds, like they're her dresses and when the wind is right it's like Marilyn Monroe and they just kindof blow away-

Bob mentally notes that he really needs to either get laid again soon or hit the porn collection later; he's starting to sound like fucking Gerard.

“Jessie! Come on Jessie.”

Not that there's anything wrong with Gee, it's just that Bob is more practical than poetical. It all sounds like so much crap to him. Except for lyrics, sometimes they work.

“Oh don't make me come out there, Jessie.”

He glances across the road and snorts at the sight of the tabby cat up the tree, looking down without fear at the daft woman stretching out from the rickety wooden ladder to try and grab it. Jessie's a stupid name for a cat, but then again she has to be a pretty stupid woman to seriously think the cat is stuck up there. Yeah, 'cause the world is littered with cat skeletons up trees.

He's a few steps further on before he realises Ray has stopped talking, or indeed walking, and is staring straight at the cat.

“Ray?”

Hurrying back, he grabs Ray's wrist and the motion seems to break him out of it, his eyes wide as he turns and grabs Bob back.

“The ladder's going to slip.”

To Bob's credit he doesn't ask how Ray knows, or whether he's sure, or any of that regular dude shit. Instead, he drops his bag at Ray's feet and runs across the road, all his concentration on the ladder. He can feel it, feel the shift of the old wood against the tree, the way her weight is making it twist slightly as she leans out, the piece of bark giving way underneath the top rung, the too soft soil under the foot starting to sink-

He's still a couple of metres away when it starts to go, but with an effort Bob _holds_ it in place, his mind steadying it and forcing it back against the tree, jolting it against the trunk, making the ground hold it for a few seconds longer.

Then he's there, grabbing the side of it and holding it tight in his fingers, his mind relaxing as the ladder shifts a little, the woman grabbing on in surprise.

“Oh, my, thank you!” Climbing down, she shakily steps back onto the ground, her hand on her chest. “I thought it was going to fall then.” He can see Ray out of the corner of his eye, jogging over with both their bags against his side and his face deathly pale.

“Ma'am, why don't you let me have a go, I have a way with cats.” She eyes him sceptically, but the ladder seems less trustworthy than him, so she steps back. Bob doesn't bother going higher than a couple of rungs, just reaching out one casual arm to the cat. It seems to be smirking at him, as though injuring its owner was its one goal in life. Bob doesn't trust cats. Especially not cats with stupid names like Jessie.

Reaching out with his mind, there's a squeal of a meow as Jessie gets poked in the stomach and jumps off the branch, using Bob's arm as a stepping point before launching off into the woman's embrace. 

“Oh, Jessie, oh thank you boys! You're very sweet.”

Bob's been called many things in his time, but sweet isn't usually one of them. He takes it with good grace though and nods, before tapping his finger against the wooden ladder. It's positively warped with age and he resists the urge to start a proper care of tools lecture.

“You might wanna invest in a new ladder, this one's seen better days.”

She nods, smiling as she hugs her cat, and thanks them again before disappearing into the house, leaving Ray to stare at Bob with huge eyes.

“That... That was awesome.”

“You gave me the heads up.”

“But you, with the ladder, and the cat!” The colour was returning to Ray's face with a vengeance, his whole body seeming to shine as though even his hair was excited. “That was incredible!”

Bob shrugs and takes back his bag with a grin. “Again, if you hadn't warned me I wouldn't even have noticed.” He starts walking away but Ray is frozen in place, grinning inanely. “What?”

“We should totally do this?”

Ray is making no sense. This is not, in fact, unheard of, but Bob is tired and getting a little headachey from the unexpected exertion and is having even more trouble than usual following the jump.

“Do what?”

“This! Stop accidents, or like crimes, or, I don't know, place crashes and shit!”

Bob can't help it, he laughs and tugs on Ray's arm. “You predict one accident – with only seconds to spare – and suddenly you're the next Nostradamus. Tell you what, when you're three for three, we can talk.”

“But Bob, it would be so awesome! Just think, we'd be like, superheroes-”

“Superheroes are either broke or really rich from birth, because the pay is shit. Doesn't sound that great to me.”

“Stop being so practical, you know it would be great! Oh just wait until I tell Gee and Mikey.”

Bob just sighs and goes back to tuning out the conversation as they walk the rest of the way home.

*********************************

Frank knows his mom is worried about him. She's been eyeing him suspiciously all evening, as though she's waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to have to run from this school too. She can see he's got something stuck in his head, going over and over and driving him insane. She's been probing too, leading questions about school and sport and his classmates and-

“School's fine, okay? For God's sake, compared to last year it's a fucking picnic, seriously, I've never been to such a laid back school. I don't even get shoulder barged in the corridor, promise, so just drop it okay?”

“Language,” she snaps back, pointing her fork at him, but her expression softens a little. “I'm pleased to hear it's going well.” She hesitates and he just knows something's coming. “I spoke to Mrs Wentz the other day-”

“You still talk to her?” He can't help the words escaping his mouth and has the grace to look apologetic when she sends him a warning glare.

“What, you think all that motherly conspiring we did was just for your benefit? Sorry to burst your bubble, but you boys are just the polite intro in our graphic and unseemly gossip and sex talk.”

Frank snorts, almost spraying his dinner over the table at the mental image and can't stop laughing. Swallowing as quick as he can, he takes a sip of water and looks up at her. “For real?”

His mom considers. “Okay, 30% you boys, 20% men and 50% soap operas.”

Frank nods in approval and goes back to his dinner. 

“Anyway, she was saying Pete and Gabe seem to be settling in well – at least that's what she's assuming based on the fact she hasn't had a call from the Uni or the police yet.” Frank grins but also feels a deep pang in his chest at the thought of them getting into trouble without him. They used to call him their minion and tease him about his age, but damn they had fun. “Have the boys been in touch with you at all?”

Frank shrugs and keeps watching his plate as though the corn's about to start doing a synchronised swim through the butter, before diving into the pool of mash, and he's expected to score it afterwards.

“You know, I was saying to her, you've probably been so busy settling in here too that I don't think you've so much as had time to text them either-”

Frank flushes. She's right, he misses them like crazy and has been annoyed they haven't called, but it's not like he's been after them and they've been ignoring him.

“-and she said that if you do manage to get hold of them to tell them to call home occasionally.” Frank's mum nods determinedly, then gives him that look. “Mom's _worry_ when their sons won't _talk_ to them.”

Sighing, Frank pushes his fork into the mash, stabbing long furrows into it like farm tracks. “It's nothing. You'll think it's silly.”

“Try me.”

Half a truth should do, right?

“I wanted to go to this movie thing on Saturday, with a couple of the guys, but it's over 18's only.” His mom actually laughs at him goddammit and he throws up his hands in surrender. “Told you it was stupid!”

“No, baby, I'm sorry, I just- After all we went through this year I was expecting, you know-”

“Blood, pain and terror?”

“Or at least a girlfriend problem.” She goes back to her dinner then adds nonchalantly. “Or boyfriend-”

“Mom!”

“I'm just saying,” he adds primly, but with a wicked look that totally suggests he isn't fooling anyone, before sticking a forkful in her mouth. “It's the 21st century, and you know you can always be honest with me, I don't want you to ever think I would ever have a problem. You can talk to me.” Her smile comes back and she reaches out to hold his hand. “About anything. Even sex, I mean, I know I'm not one of the guys-”

“Oh this is not happening-” Frank puts his hands over his head as though he can shield himself from her words, his face flushing.

“-but I know some stuff, I mean, you did come from somewhere, and your dad was quite-”

“Lalalalalaaaa!” Frank sticks his fingers in his ears.

Laughing, she musses up his hair and mock pouts. “Fine, but if there is anything you want to _tell_ me, that's cool, and if it's... personal, you can always talk to your dad, or the doctor-”

Frank winces. Yeah, he's gonna tell a family doctor in a small town about his gay crush on an older guy and risk getting Gee branded as some kind of Paedophile.

“-or, and I know this is gonna sound like it's coming from way out there, you could always _call_ Gabe and Pete and bitch about girls – or boys – or overprotective moms, or music, or whatever it is you boys used to giggle about at 2am when you thought I was asleep.”

Huh. Well, obviously he's thought about calling them-

Except he hasn't. It never, ever, occurred to him to call the two guys who taught him everything he knows about sex, drugs and pop. (Rock and roll he taught THEM about. Decent stuff anyway.) He's an idiot.

“Yeah, I'll give them a call.” He manages a real smile for the first time in what feels like days and digs into his corn with more enthusiasm. 

*********************************

_“Frankie Fucking Iero, you sexy little freak, get your hot little mouth back in my life this instant!”_

Gabe is completely camping it up, and high as balls by the sound of it (although it's hard to tell as it's also Gabe's natural state of being), but Frank just laughs and tucks the phone tighter against his ear, really hoping he can't be overheard at all. 

“I thought that's what college was for?”

_”Well, yeaaaaah,”_ Gabe drawls deliberately, _”but you never forget the day someone takes your innocence.”_

Frank snorts loudly and starts coughing from it, torn between laughing and choking. “You? Innocent? You haven't been innocent since 3rd grade.”

_”I'm a fast learner.”_ He can hear Gabe take a long drag on something and Frank can picture him settling back onto an unmade bed, maybe even still holding an earlier conquest. _”So little one, this a social chat or the new town busting your balls?”_

Frank can hear the hesitation and barely controlled anger about what happened to him and smiles softly. “School's fine, seriously, it's a breeze, no raw meat in the locker, no asshole jocks, it's actually pretty plain sailing for once.”

_”Can't tell you how pleased I am to hear that Frankie. So, you still a virgin or has some lucky small town stud made you his own yet?”_

“Fuck you, Gabe!” Frank laughs again and shakes his head, sitting up and grinning. He'd forgotten how much fun it was just chatting to his friends. 

_”Frankie baby, these sweet cheeks have been access all areas for you for, like, ever, all you had to do was ask.”_ Gabe chuckles to himself. _”So, seriously, what's his name?”_

“Why the fuck you assume it's that?”

_”I know you.”_

Frank can't argue that point and sighs, throwing himself back onto the bed with a melodramatic air. “You'll call me a pussy.”

_”You are a fucking pussy, but we all know that already. Now spill it.”_

Frank tells him everything, listening to relative silence in return and dreading Gabe's verdict. “And then I give him my number so his fucking _little brother_ can give me a call.”

_”Is the brother cute?”_

“How the Hell should I know?”

_”Take the call, go do the whole dating thing, and fuck the brother! Problem solved.”_

He really should've seen that coming. “Really, really not.”

He can hear Gabe sighing down the mouthpiece and shifting. _”Look, hang out with the brother. The worst that can happen is you get some new mates out of it. Maybe you'll decide this guy isn't that great. Maybe you'll go for the brother or meet some other built young small town farmer type stud who can roll you in the hay, who knows unless you fucking try. 'Sides, may be this guy is just a little freaked by your age, so what, you get to know him, hang it out, and believe me baby, eventually age is just a number and even a decade or two counts for nothing.”_

Frank pauses. “You fucked a professor didn't you?”

Gabe chuckles throatily. _”Hey, there is a lot to be said for a really experienced partner, not to mention a possible A.”_

“I'm hanging up now.”

_”No wait! Pete just got here, Pete you beautiful fucker get the fuck in here, our boy needs Dear Abby advice!”_

_”That hair on your balls is normal, erections are healthy, and wanking is a natural outlet for your sexual frustration – and fun!”_

“Bye you guys!”

_”Petey, I think our little boy is finally growing up.”_

_”We've taught him everything we can, it's time to let our little angel fly.”_

“Fuckers.”

He can hear their laughter down the line and it warms him like the first sweet drag of the day and even though they've been pretty useless, insulting, crude and downright ridiculous, it's helped to talk about it and get it out of his head. Just saying the words out loud have sort of filed them in his mind and chased out the more scary scenarios. Gabe's right, what harm could coffee or something do? It's not like he's gonna jump the guy or something. And it probably is just a crush, it's not like he actually _knows_ Gerard, he might just be a bit of an asshole really.

Besides, Frank doesn't believe in love at first sight or any of that shit. It must just be a crush, or just the thrill of recognising someone who isn't a complete loser in this town. 

“Thanks guys.”

_”Anytime Frankie angel. I mean that. If I'm fucking and it goes to voicemail, just give me an hour and I'll call back.”_

_”More like ten minutes! And that includes clean up time!”_

Frank's giggles are making the bed shake and he doesn't really want to hang up but there's not much more to say, and the guys keep chatting to each other in the background which makes it hard to keep up with. Doesn't matter though, he feels much brighter.

“I'd better get going, homework and that shit.”

_”Yeah, there's this pledge thing we wanna go heckle tonight so better get a move on or all the cute boys will be dressed again. Give you a call at the weekend or something?”_

“Hangover Sunday?”

_“It's a date.”_ He can hear a knock at the door in the background and Gabe swears. _”We really gotta go but we'll talk, okay? I wanna hear more about tall dark and handsome.”_

_”And whether his brother is fuckable!”_

_”That too. Ooo, take pictures!”_

“Good _bye_ guys!”

Frank laughs as he hangs up and looks at the pile of books on his desk he should be working through. Fuck it, he's already two days ahead with his assignments due to having no life. He can take a break.

His gaze falls on the dark comic hidden at the bottom of the stack, just the edge sticking out, and sighs. Maybe it's time to check out the Raven. At least then he'll have something new to talk about.

******************************************************

Mikey knows his brother is sinking, has been for a couple of days. Even without being able to read Gee's mind (which was annoying as Hell yet at the same time, kindof a relief; there were some places in his brother's psyche that could do without tourists.) It doesn't take a telepath to spot the way he is being so sullen and withdrawn, slouching into himself and doodling lots of horrific deaths and zombie attacks.

It doesn't take a telepath to smell the alcohol on his breath.

Gee doesn't even notice Mikey and their mum exchanging worried messages all through dinner, their conversation silent but all too concerned as they watch Gerard play with his food morosely. Mikey persuades their mom to let him deal with it, after all, he is the telepath but more than that, he suspects it's what their mom refers to as a 'guy problem' – but with a promise that he will call her in if she's needed.

Mikey can feel the sadness in her and gives her a quick one armed hug as he gets up from the table, wrapping around her neck. It has to suck not being able to share in a big part of your kid's life. Mikey still thinks she is awesome though, even as she swats his hair, messing it up as he pulls away.

He grabs his phone and sends a quick SOS text to the guys, calling in reinforcements, and waits nervously in the living room, his mom pretending to watch TV but really watching him. They have seen Gee get into these funks before, and they are never good. Sometimes they're downright fucking dangerous. 

The guys arrive in record time, Ray with his guitar under one arm and the last few inches of a bottle of vodka sloshing in the other, and Bob bearing cola, cups and beer. If they can't stop Gee drinking, at least they can join him, misery loves company and all that – and try and get him onto something weaker than neat vodka. It seems illogical to bring alcohol to someone who's already drunk, but they know in some instances it helps to just get him to the pass out stage faster, before he tries to do something stupid.

Again. Sometimes their mom only half jokes that it was a miracle either boy managed to make it to eighteen.

As they stomp down the stairs, Mikey can feel a hazy blur of thought in the basement and tries not to sigh. Gee has to be pretty wasted, or concentrating on Mikey, for his barriers to go down enough to let Mikey sense him whilst out of sight. Pushing through the door, they don't say a word, just arrange themselves around his room, Ray flopping down on the chair and resting his guitar on his knee, strumming soothingly as Bob sits at the foot of the bed and sets out cups and starts pouring.

Mikey heads for the blanket covered bundle on the bed and curls up alongside it, wrapping an arm over the vaguely Gee shaped lump.

“Fuck off,” Gee slurs, fidgeting, and Mikey spots an empty bottle on the pillow and wants to cry. Instead, he strokes Gee's arm soothingly.

“We brought beer.”

The lump stops moving and slowly the blanket pulls down enough to show a mop of seriously messed up hair and red eyes. “What sort of beer?”

“Wet beer,” Bob replies, lifting a half full cup up over his head and into Gee's reach. Reluctantly, Gerard stretches out a hand and grabs it before trying to pull it back into his blanket cocoon with him. After several minutes of trying to work out a way to drink the beer whilst still lying down, his lips stuck out like a duck, Gee growls and finally sits up. 

Mikey moves to slide in behind him, arms and legs spread around his brother in a bear hug, part comfort and part steadying him. Pulling Gee's hair out of his face, and beer cup, Mikey tries not to peek into his mind. It's so much easier like this, close up, in contact, and Gee's so wasted he wouldn't even notice his paper thin barriers being prodded.

Instead, Mikey strokes his hair, hugging him tight as Ray simply plays, the music slowly stirring Gee's interest and soothing him. They all sit there like that as Gee drinks, Bob joining him as Ray plays then, when the song finishes, Ray grabs a cup too. Mikey doesn't take one; he has to be careful, alcohol and telepathy can be a lethal combination, especially around someone who's blue.

It seems an age before Gee finally sighs and snuggles back against Mikey, his empty cup falling down by his side. “I'm a pervert.”

Bob snorts into his cup before Ray kicks him, and starts to strum again, looking at Gee from under his mass of curls. “What makes you say that?”

“I...” Gee sighs and fidgets again. “You know that guy, the one from the comic shop?” They nod, exchanging 'uh oh' glances. This could go so many ways, very few of them good. “I, uh, I thought he was, like, a senior.”

Mikey winces, knowing where this is going and really hopes it isn't the illegal route.

“He's a... a junior. He's only...” Gee groans and buries his face in his hands. “He's sixteen! He's a fucking child! I fancy a child, I've been having all these thoughts, I mean really bad thoughts, about a _kid_!”

Ray winces and carries on strumming even as Bob shrugs. “I've dated sixteen year olds, they're a little crazy but trust me, some of them ain't exactly where no man has gone before, if you know what I mean.”

“I think my guitar knows what you mean, Bob,” Ray mutters. “He has a point though, sixteen isn't like fifteen, it's legal, and Bob's were girls so y'know, different deal again. Daddies get all worked up over their little angels but boys are expected to be studs. 'Sides, he's a junior so he'll be what, seventeen this year right?”

“Next month,” Gee mutters, “but come on, it's not like he's suddenly gonna be all grown up, he's just a child! And I'm like, some creepy old dude trying to corrupt him but with comics instead of puppies. Seventeen isn't much better than sixteen, he's still just a child!”

Mikey freezes behind him and stops stroking his hair, resisting the urge to wrap his fingers in it and pull. “Seventeen is a child.”

Gee misses the coldness in Mikey's tone but Bob and Ray wince. Bob twists round to watch closely, ready to intervene if he needs to pull them apart.

“Yeah, he's just like, a kid and I'm-”

“So I'm a kid.” Mikey untangles himself in a matter of seconds and bounces off the bed, Ray moving to stop him leaving.

“Mikey-”

“You're eighteen! It's been a whole, like, week!” Gee manages to get out, “it's not the same.”

“You're right, it's not.” Mikey stops in the doorway, Ray's arm blocking his exit and turns around. His voice is low, almost monotone, but they can feel the fury coming off him. He doesn't open his mouth but they can all hear him anyway, even Gee, who winces. 

_*Three hundred and seventy odd days ago I was curled up on the floor upstairs going out of my fucking mind. I had to sleep with you for a_ month _so you could block my powers and not let me go batshit crazy in my dreams or accidentally shred mom and dad's brains. I was days away from getting committed to an asylum and I would have welcomed it. I was a fucking wreck and in so much pain, but I got through it, and you still think seventeen is a child? Trust me, age is just a fucking number, you've no idea if this guy is a kid or not.*_

It's about the longest speech he has ever made, and Gee just stares open mouthed for a long time before mumbling.

“But he's not WitchKind-”

“I think what Mikey's trying to say,” Ray interrupts quickly, “is that it's possible to be older than you look, and shit happens, to everyone, not just WitchKind. Just don't rule this guy out just because of a number.”

“I... It's not... I mean... Half my age plus seven is the rule isn't it? So that's what...” Gee pauses, swaying slightly on the bed, trying to count, then slumps into himself. 

“Half 21 is 10,” Ray says kindly, “plus 7 is seventeen, so he's a month too young for you. So you wait a month before making a move, Casanova. Not that you usually do anything until like the twentieth date anyway. Plus as Mikey has pointed out, in WitchKind terms 17 is an adult, so it's not like anyone from the collective is gonna have an issue with him.”

“Other than him being normal.”

“Since when has that made any difference?” Bob's voice is low and grumpy, and the roll of his eyes is practically audible. “Fuck, if we stuck to our own we'd've died out generations ago. Not to mention we'd,” he spins his finger round to indicate them all, “all still be virgins. And we're talking about a guy you've met what, twice? You don't have to fucking marry him right away. So, you make friends with the guy, you see if you really like him, don't jump him until after his birthday, and you don't give away all our secrets on the first date. Easy.”

“Yeah, but... But he's... It's...” Gerard pauses, as though completely lost in his own mind, running through their logic and looking for a flaw, then going through his own again. “I'm being an idiot aren't I?”

“No more than usual,” Bob points out, handing another cup of beer back before pointing one at Mikey with a touch of insistence. This time he takes it, too sharp and intense and edgy to resist the chance to knock the corners off. Perching back on the edge of the bed, Mikey takes a sip and leans forward on his knees as Ray sits and starts to play again. It's what he does in a crisis; some people make tea, others bring beer, and Ray strums Iron Maiden riffs. It works though, the sound bringing them all back into focus.

“Sorry Mikey,” Gee hiccups at last, reaching out a hand to hold his brother's shoulder. Mikey leans back into it, a small gesture of acceptance but enough. “I forget sometimes that... You may be all grown up but you'll always be my baby brother.”

“And you'll always be a hopeless idiot.” Mikey scoffs back but nods just once.

“I did get his number this time...”

Mikey snorts, and looks back over his shoulder, peering over the top of his glasses. “How'd you manage that?”

“I, uh, I said I'd give it to you.”

Mikey rolls his eyes and looks over at Ray. “Whatcha think oracle, should I give the guy a call?”

Ray smiles and closes his eyes, still playing, and for a moment he looks as though he's just lost in the music, seamlessly somehow moving from Iron Maiden to Jimmi Hendrix without thought. Finally he opens his eyes and shrugs. “Matters of the heart are in the realm of free will and beyond the gaze of the seer.”

The others laugh and Gee grins tiredly. “Bullshit.”

Shrugging, Ray looks down at his fingertips on the guitar. “What d'ya want me to say? I got nothing either way on the guy yet, I'd probably have to meet him to be sure. So invite him to coffee Sunday, we'll say hi, if it's doomed maybe I'll get a sign and if it's good-”

“Your record is pretty shit on that,” Bob points out.

“I had a bad feeling about Bert-” Ray starts, before quickly focusing on his guitar again. “Look, Gee, we love you, we're the closest thing any of us has to a coven and you know how it goes, hurt one, hurt all-”

“More literally in my case,” Gee grumbles.

“- and you obsessing and running all those mad what ifs round your head is gonna drive you fucking crazy. And 'sides,” he adds hesitantly, glancing at the others for support. “I know it's been rough for you and we respect that, you know we'd never rush you, but you need to get back out there and move on, you can't stay alone forever. Bring him to coffee, we'll chaperone, Mikey can suss out if the guy is straight or not and whether he's interested in you, and take it from there-”

“No, no peeking!” Gee blushes bright red and pulls the blanket up over his head. “What if he thinks I'm a creepy old creeper who wants to, like, kidnap him or something?”

“Then you can get over him and cheer the fuck up,” Bob cries out like some sort of public announcer, “and if he likes you, you can add him to your spank bank and maybe get laid at some point. Seriously, if we ever need a virgin sacrifice you're the closest one we've got, surprised your balls haven't gone back in by now-”

Bob doesn't react as an empty cup bounces off his head, just blinks before turning round, creepily slow. 

“Uh oh.”

Gerard laughs and ducks as a veritable hurricane of empty plastic cups comes flying through the air at him, the entire stack shooting at him and bouncing off the light blue shimmer of his shields and deflecting around the room, some hitting Mikey but most ending up down the side of the bed. Eventually Gee gives up and pulls up the blanket as a shield, Mikey and Ray chuckling as they watch him.

“Surrender?”

“I yield! I yield!” Gee shouts, waiting until the last patter of cups hitting the floor fades, then peeks over the edge of the blanket. “Just coffee?” He whispers quietly.

“Group coffee,” Ray reassures him. “Not a date, just... hanging out with mates. Being nice to a new comic geek in town.”

“And caffeine,” Mikey points out.

Gerard considers it, then digs out the well thumbed flyer from his pocket and hands it to Mikey before he can change his mind. With a cheer of celebration, Ray and Bob grab a weak vodka and coke each and make a toast to 'creepy old creepers who creep' and place bets on where Gee's pot and or porn stash is as Mikey slips upstairs to make the call.

Gee pulls the blanket back up over his head to hide the small grin he can't quite keep down.

*************************************

Frank is halfway through drying his hair when his phone rings, the sound making him jump. He's almost forgotten the thing exists; after having spent an entire day hugging it just hoping for the call from the mysterious other brother, he's forced himself to not look at it, leaving it up on a high shelf out of temptation's way.

It's probably a wrong number, he tell himself as he pulls it down and drops the towel to his shoulders. Flopping down onto the bed, he clings onto the towel round his waist to keep it in place, then takes a deep breath.

“Hello?”

_“Hey, is this Frank?”_

The voice is fairly low, not exactly expressive, but what the fuck, could be worse. At least it's not a telemarketer or some shit.

“Yeah, I'm Frank.”

_“Oh, hey, I'm Mikey. Way. Gee's brother? Sorry to hear you can't make the cinema but we're doing coffee afterwards on Sunday, about ten? I know it's early but final show finishes at 9:30-”_

“No, I mean yeah, yeah ten's cool. Where do you guys go for coffee?”

The dude actually laughs, the sound short and almost surprised. _“Gino's, the fake Italian coffee shop place, a block over from Charlie's. Best coffee in town.”_

“Promise?” He laughs again and Frank feels more hopeful. Maybe this won't be too bad after all. 

_“Tell you what, I work there, I'll make it myself and if it's not perfect, I'm buying.”_

“How can I say no?”

_“Perfect, we'll meet you there about ten. Look out for Gee, and if you can't find him 'cause he's a shortass, look for a tall guy with really big hair, that's Ray.”_

“O-Okay. Sunday.”

_” Sunday. See you then!”_

As he hangs up, Frank grins and tries to ignore the leaping in his chest. He'd figured the lack of calls meant Gee'd changed his mind, or been too freaked out, or had lost the flyer, or was avoiding him.

“It's just coffee.” Repeating it sternly to himself, Frank looks down at his lap and sighs at the hopeful tenting in his towel. He's gonna have to work on getting the memo down to his dick before Sunday. 

**********************************

Mikey sits on the steps into Gee's basement and decides he deserves a reward for restraint or something. He's already dressed and ready to go, a sleeping bag rolled and tucked by his thigh as he watches Gerard pace through the basement, rifling through clean, less clean, and really downright gross clothes to decide what to wear. A wet towel is dumped on the bed, seeping damp into the sheets, and Gee actually has clean hair for once instead of a well fingered and dusty mess.

For a night in a cinema with the guys, and a 'not a date just coffee' Gee is really fretting.

Suddenly Mikey has a mental image of one of those stupid teen shows where the girl is running round her bedroom picking out outfits whilst her friend watches and gives sage advice. Sometimes, he wonders if his life wouldn't just be simpler if Gee had just been born a fucking girl.

“What about this one?” Gee turns, holding up a t-shirt with a Bon Jovi heart and dagger on it over the long sleeved top he's already wearing.

“He's from New Jersey then?” Mikey says, and Gee nods before flushing bright red and throwing the t-shirt away. 

“Okay, the Strokes, gotta love the Strokes.” He pulls the t-shirt on and turns to face Mikey, grinning. Mikey shakes his head once, pointing at a large red ink stain on one side that makes it look like Gee has been stabbed. “Ah, shit, forgot about that.” 

Mikey stares as Gee roots through yet another pile, then raises his chin as he hears Ray and Bob arrive to pick them up, calling for them.

_*You nearly ready?*_ Ray sounds girlie even in his head, and Mikey sighs, sending him an image of Gee and a pile of clothes back.

_*Not even close. Safe to come down though, he's decent.*_

_*Bob's flirting with your mom again, won't be a sec.*_

Mikey gags at the thought and he can feel Ray's laughter even before he hears it, fucker. Gee pulls a hurt face and looks at the X-files t-shirt he's holding, the silver metallic X a little (okay, a lot) cracked and aged and pouts.

“It's not that bad.”

Mikey shakes his head quickly and points up as Ray clatters down the steps behind him. Nodding in understanding, Gee brings his attention back to the t-shirt. “So, whatcha think?” Rolling his eyes, Mikey throws a thumbs up and leans back on the stairs to gaze up at the towering figure of Ray Toro above him.

“You're cruel and unusual Toro.”

“Pre-emptive revenge for when you start talking through the movie and I can't shush you 'cause you're not actually _talking_ talking.” Nodding at Gee, Ray frowns. “Come on Way, you look gorgeous. I'd do you.”

Gee just flips him off, but quickly pulls on the t-shirt and a plain black hoodie and grabs his bag. As he hurries to join them, Mikey pulls himself up to his feet, then stops short as he catches a waft of... 

“Holy shit, you're wearing _cologne_?”

“It's body spray,” Gee squeaks, his face running several shades redder than before, ducking his head. “Like, deodorant stuff, that's all, it's a cinema, don't wanna gross anyone out.”

“I think Hell just froze over,” Mikey hears Ray mutter, and grins. Gee is so not going to actually watch any of the movies. Mikey just hopes this Frank guy is worth it.

*************************************

Frank isn't nervous. Nope. Not at all. Okay so he's changed clothes six times, brushed his teeth twice, styled his hair two different ways before settling for his usual look of it hanging half over his face, too long to do much else with it. But that doesn't mean he's nervous.

Terrified, maybe. 

It's weird, he's never usually had any problem with meeting new people before. And meeting new people who actually WANT to meet him, as opposed to the guys who stand with their backs to the wall like he's some kind of fucking rapist, then beat the shit out of him 'just in case', that's just brilliant and should be easy.

Maybe it's this town, it's so small and Gerard is the only halfway cool guy he's actually seen so far, and his friends must be decent too, right? He can't see Gee being the sort to be friends with assholes, so they must be okay. So yeah, they may be the only decent guys in town that he might actually get along with so his potential future happiness in this dump depends on making a good first impression but hey, no pressure right?

Stripping off his t-shirt, Frank dives back into his closet (literally of course, he's never had much time for the metaphorical one) and grabs a different one. Maybe his Bon Jovi tour one, or the Strokes...

********************************

The movies finish a little early, and the boys emerge blinking into the too bright and chilly daylight, Gee instantly slipping on a pair of shades whilst Mikey pulls his hat lower, his glasses almost merging into the rim. Ray's yawning, his hair a little flatter than usual at the back, and Bob is – Bob just looks the same as normal, as though his default state is sleep deprived. Heading to the parking lot, they throw their things in the back of Ray's car and turn towards the coffee shop.

At which point Gee starts to babble on about sci-fi in films versus literature versus comic books, classic model effects and CGI and the nature of good versus evil... His nervousness is obvious to his friends, but for once they don't tease him about it. They haven't seen him like this, haven't seen him so much as glance at a guy in _years_ and it's good to see. Instead they let his torrent of babble wash over them, Bob and Ray drifting closer to Mikey and flanking him behind Gerard (who keeps trying to walk backwards to talk to them instead of lecturing the sidewalk), their hands drifting closer to his, fingers touching every now and then in a way that could be accidental but totally isn't.

_*You are gonna read the kid aren't you?*_ Mikey glances at Ray and rolls his eyes. _*Just checking*_

_*You gonna try and get a feel on him too?*_ Ray shrugs.

_*I can try.*_

_*What you gonna do,*_ Bob interrupts, _*recommend the green tea? Or offer to read his palm?*_

Ray reaches around Mikey to poke Bob in the arm, but pulls back quickly when Gee spins again, his hair a little wild and his hands fucking everywhere as he gestures.

“I mean, some effects date so fast but proper model shots, they fucking rock, they're ageless-” He stops as the coffee shop comes into sight, spinning back to face front. A skinny figure, dressed mostly in black but with splashes of colour on his t-shirt and jacket shining through, not to mention his knees sticking out of his torn blue jeans in a way that looks more like he's worn through them than designer, is leaning against the wall. “Uh, we're here, I mean, he's-”

Mikey shifts forward and slings an arm around his brother's shoulders, half pushing and half supporting him along. “Breathe big brother, it's just coffee, remember?”

Swallowing hard, Gee forces a grin on his face and summons up a little confidence from somewhere. Mikey resists the urge to pull back as a slight tingle of energy runs through his skin where he's touching Gerard, knowing it's just a side effect and not a deliberate push. As they draw closer though, he lets go, straightening his glasses and putting on a smile. Better not scare the kid, he has to be more nervous than Gee is. After all, there are four of them and one of him. No sense ganging up on him.

Not yet anyway.

************************

Frank shifts against the wall as he finally sees them coming and throws a small wave their way, which Gee returns easily. The sunlight is behind them and they look like some sort of gang out of a movie or something, or rock stars, he doesn't know what but they could just as easily be the geeks from a bad teen movie. Gee's shades give him an instant air of rock God that sends a jolt through Frank's spine and he finds himself watching Gee's legs as he strides, suddenly realising there's always been a counter in the way before. But Gerard's skinny black jeans are showing off a pair of legs that Frank wants to see wrapped around his-

Swallowing, Frank forces himself to look away and focus on the guy who is draped over Gerard with easy familiarity. He has to be the brother, Mikey; not only does he look younger than the others, but there is a hint of resemblance around the face and the way they are acting is so relaxed it speaks of years of habit. Mikey's black jacket has like a million zips and his red top looks a little creased underneath it, blue jeans and sneakers finishing his look, but still, how he can handle being so loosely dressed in September makes Frank suddenly feel too wrapped up in his fingerless gloves and long sleeves pulled down to his knuckles.

The dyed blonde streaks in Mikey's hair look a little odd, like an experiment gone wrong, and the beanie hat only reinforces that impression, like he's trying to hide a bad hair day, but the confidence with which he moves suggests otherwise. 

Speaking of bad hair days, the tall guy with the most amazing 'fro Frank has ever seen on a white guy has to be the Ray Mikey mentioned on the phone. A scuffed black leather jacket fits him easily and his blue top gives a hint of the physique beneath. There's something about him and his smile and the way he holds himself that's just approachable, overcoming the intimidating height and giving him the air of a big friendly dog or something. Frank has an urge to climb him just to stroke that hair and tries to hide the grin the thought causes as they draw closer.

Especially as the last guy does not look amused. He is stocky, half shrugged down into his black hoodie and his blonde hair is hanging down over his face in a way that's similar yet somehow totally different to Frank's. Maybe it's the stubbly beard that makes the difference, Frank thinks. Or the lip ring. Fuck, he wants a lip ring. The question of how he can ask the guy where he got his done, without sounding like he wants to copy him, is running through his head as they finally get to the shop, the guy looking at him in a 'what the fuck do you want' way that forces his gaze back to Gerard at last.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Gerard seems torn between wanting to hug him and holding out his hand for a shake, making a couple of odd abortive moves before a badly hidden snort from Ray makes Gee blush and stick one hand in his pocket, the other pointing to the guys in turn as he introduces them. Waves, handshakes and nods follow and Frank can feel himself being assessed and measured and prays to any fucking God who will listen (not that he really believes in any, but, y'know, no harm in asking) that he doesn't fuck this up.

Then before he knows it they're pressing in through the door, Mikey waving and saying hi to pretty much everyone whilst Ray and Bob steer him towards a table at the back. Then Mikey is ducking behind the counter, their orders taken, and moving with easy familiarity over the machines whilst the guys just watch Frank with expectant looks. It's intimidating but there's a sense that they are waiting for something, like this is going to be a fucking amazing cup of coffee. Great. Preparing himself to make the appreciative face he has to give Mr Saporta when he stays over for dinner and he forgets Frank's vegetarian, he tries not to be nervous as Mikey returns. It's okay, he knows how to fake it.

He just wishes there wasn't such a big audience.

Smiling politely, he takes his mug and blows the steam off, nursing it until he's sure it won't burn him. Ray and Bob have started talking about the films, trying to hide the fact that everyone is watching Frank like he's going to explode or something, but everyone seems to be holding their breath until he tries the coffee. For fucks sake, this had better be good coffee.

Unless it's a prank and it's actually something else-

No. He watched it being made, and it _smells_ good, plus the happy little noises Gee is making as he sips his seem to be completely genuine (and more than a little bit of a turn on, dammit.) Waiting until everyone seems to be distracted for a second, Frank figures this is as good a time as ever, and takes a sip.

“Holy shit, that's good!” It takes him a second to even realise he's spoken, his face wide open with shock and delight as he grins at Mikey, who just raises one eyebrow a little in acknowledgement. “That's... Wow.” Closing his eyes, Frank sips again and can't help the happy moan that escapes him. Damn, he hadn't realised how much he was missing Starbucks out here in the sticks, but this- “So much better than Starbucks.”

At the laughter around him, Frank looks round and realises he said that out loud too and blushes a little, lowering his head. Fuck. But the laughter is warm and welcoming, not mocking, and Gee grins widely and knocks his mug against Frank's in a toast. “Welcome to the best coffee house, ever, Mikey is very gifted.”

“I'll say.” Frank realises how that sounds and can feel his blush getting deeper. Oh Hell no.

“Thanks,” Mikey says, not taking offence or anything, and wraps his hand around his own mug before turning to Ray. “So, now he's been introduced to proper coffee, the real test.”

Nodding, Ray leans forward on the table and Frank tries really hard not to pull back. Oh God, this is gonna be bad.

“Which is better; Terminator One or Two?”

“Oh come on,” Gee starts, shaking his head, “not fair, at least start with something easy-”

“T2.” Gerard grins and round on him, face all lit up. 

“I know right?! I mean, don't get me wrong, T1 is awesome with the whole bleak apocalyptic vision of the future and the irrevocable path of it all, but T2, I mean, no fate but what we make? I love that!”

“Fate doesn't work that way! T1 had it right, that moment when you work out his friend is his daddy, just perfect!” Ray says with a grin that suggests this is an old argument, but the way he looks at Frank is encouraging and he can't help but feel like it's okay to speak up.

“Fate is bullshit, if everything is pre-written then what the fuck are we doing? I mean, if it is possible to see the future, wouldn't you just have to try to change it, just to prove you could?”

Ray opens his eyes comically wide, as though offended, but Bob just sniggers, as though there's some private joke Frank's missing out on. “People have been predicting the future for centuries, Nostradamus for one-”

“Oh come on, that's like deja vu, people dream shit all the time, I dream about plane crashes maybe once or twice a year, if everyone in the world does that then of course someone's gonna dream about a crash the night before it happens! It's not fate, it's a coincidence!”

Gerard just shrugs at Ray, and Bob grins again, settling back into his chair to watch whilst Mikey's gaze flickers round the table. Frank is flushed, he can feel it, but he's grinning as Ray hesitates. This is like a fucking job interview or something, his heart is racing and it's like the whole thing is a test but fuck it, it's also _fun_. 

“But what if fate did exist,” Ray starts again, “for all you know you're supposed to have come to this town, and everything else in your life has been leading up to it-”

“Yeah, and fate might want me to settle down with a nice girl and watch fucking Oprah all day, but it ain't gonna take me down without a fight.”

Ray gives in and laughs out loud, shaking his head, his hair flying out a little with the movement, and raises his mug in a salute. “I give up, Gee, your turn.”

“Okay,” Gerard says, considering his question carefully. “If you could steal any superhero's power, whose would you take?”

Frank grins, taking in the looks around him, and feels odd. Not bad, not nervous any more, not anything wrong really. He feels... at home. It's hard to describe and really kind of a new feeling; he's never really fit in, not anywhere, and even with Gabe and Pete it's not quite right, there's always an odd friction bouncing between the three of them that doesn't quite make it comfortable or easy. Gabe and Pete are a pair, and he loves them for it, but if anyone gets left behind it is him. But this... It's freaky, but it feels like he's always been here, at this table, in this town, with these guys.

It's home.

And, dude, superhero powers? Easy question. It's comforting, there's none of the usual questions about his past, interrogations about his mum and dad splitting up or why he had to move schools, no pity over the bullying and shit, and it's like they just skipped a couple of weeks and have known each other for ages. 

Superpowers? He could totally see them all being some sort of superhero gang, it would be fucking awesome. Shrugging, he raises his mug a little and takes the bait.

****************************

Mikey watches in silence, listening to the conversations both verbal and unspoken around the table, his foot pressed up against Gerard's, the contact letting him get a general idea of how he is. It's frustrating; Gee is too distracted by Frank to really let him in, or pay attention to Mikey when he tries to _speak_ to him. It's like trying to talk to someone through glass, he needs to have Gee looking at him, paying attention, to be able to get through.

Bob on the other hand is enjoying the exchange immensely. Ray and Frank are off again, this time on whether Iron Maiden are the greatest English band of all time, and Bob is watching from the sidelines, grinning when Gerard joins in the fight and nearly knocks his coffee over in his eagerness. Bob looks up at Mikey and concentrates, an invisible poke to Mikey's side getting his attention as effectively as saying his name.

_*He's doing well*_

Mikey glances over at Frank, watching him closely and trying to get a feel for him again. It's trickier with most new people, their thoughts either too open or too guarded, like a shout or a whisper but never in between. And chaotic, thinking far ahead and planning their answers or not really paying attention. But Frank is clear, what he thinks mirroring what he says, and genuinely in response to what Ray and Gee are saying. It's refreshing.

Glancing back at Bob, Mikey nods.

_*He's handling both of them at once, I'd say he's doing very well*_

Bob watches the exchange again, folding his arms across his chest as he consider his friends. _*I like him*_

_*Me too*_

_*I'd ask if he fancies Gee, but it doesn't take a telepath to get the answer to that one*_

Mikey smiles just a little, watching the way Frank keeps looking at Gerard, not even consciously perhaps, but compared to the way he looks at Ray it's obvious; he's shining, his face open and completely hypnotised by Gee as he argues back, enjoying every remark and question. When Frank makes a point, even if he's arguing with Ray, he always glances at Gee, as though gauging his reaction or seeking his approval – yet at the same time, not really giving a fuck if Gee disagrees with him. In fact, he seems to enjoy baiting Gerard and trying to get a wilder reaction.

As for Gee, Mikey hasn't seen him so animated in a long time. For that alone, Mikey decides Frank can stay.

_*If he hurts Gee I'll kill him,*_ Mikey sends back to Bob, but the corner of his mouth quirks, exposing the joke.

_*Join the queue.*_

Gee chooses that moment to half lunge across the table, grabbing Frank's wrist to stop him talking about Def Leppard's one armed drummer, and Bob laughs, pushing back from the table as Gee's thankfully empty mug goes rolling across it. Sighing, Bob grabs it and tosses it back onto the table before pointing at Gerard in warning.

Contrite, Gerard sits back, his hand running through his hair as he grins apologetically, but Mikey just watches as Gerard looks at Frank. It's obvious alright. Whether either of them will ever do anything about it is another matter, but Frank seems cool enough and there's no great tension or anything.

A cell phone ringing cuts through the air and Frank starts, jumping in his seat and digging through his pockets to pull out a battered looking phone that he quickly answers.

“Pete, bad time, I-”

_”Frankie baby, my favourite little cocksucker, what's the verdict on the brother, he fuckable?”_

Mikey tries not to react but he can't help it, he can not only hear it so clear in Frank's head but also the guy is practically shouting down the phone. Snorting with laughter, Mikey quickly looks away, trying desperately to shut it out but Frank's mortification is amplifying his thoughts way too much for Mikey to ignore him.

_*Oh shit, oh shit, fuckable? Pete you motherfucker, I'm going to kill you*_

“Pete, bad timing, I gotta go-”

_”Oh, fuck me, he's there isn't he! Quick work, Iero, go, do your thing! Call me later, I want details. And pictures!”_

_*I fucking hate you*_

“Later, bye Pete!”

Frank is so red by the time he hangs up the phone Mikey is pretty sure he could toast a Panini on his forehead. Ray is grinning too, his hawk like ears picking up on the words too, but Gerard is just throwing Mikey confused looks and Bob is engrossed in his coffee for once. Forcing himself not to let on what he heard, Mikey throws Frank a polite grin and nods.

“Friend?”

“Uh, yeah,” if possible Frank goes redder and pushes his phone deeper into his pocket as though doing so will make it disappear and never ring again. “I, uh, forgot I said I'd call him this morning.”

“No worries,” Gee says easily, glancing at the time and his eyes widening in shock. “Shit, we've been here for like two hours, no wonder he called you. Didn't realise how late it was.” 

Frank nods, but his face falls a little, his shoulders hunching into himself. _*And here it comes, the it's been nice, we should do this again some time, I'll call you brush off. Fuck you Pete, I fucking hate you-*_

“We should go get some sleep,” Ray says easily, still sharing a secret smile with Mikey over the 'fuckable' comment, “but this has been really good fun, it's been great to meet you, you should totally hang with us more.”

_*Fun whilst it lasted at any rate*_

“Come join us for lunch tomorrow,” Mikey says suddenly, then shakes his head as he glances at the others. “By us I don't mean these old men, but I mean me, I tend to eat with some guys from AV and the marching band over by the practice room. They're good people.”

_*Seriously?!*_

“I...” Frank visibly perks up; if he was a dog his tail would be wagging by now. “Yeah, that would be cool.”

“I'd suggest more evening stuff but we have to do some tidying up of the old house for our Halloween gig,” Mikey adds, hoping to reinforce that Frank isn't gonna be brushed off, “it's just a lot of sweeping up and crap, then some painting and stuff, but we're gonna be there most nights, so unless you fancy hanging round and picking up rubbish and listening to Ray argue with Gee all week about glow in the dark paint-”

_*Fuck yes!*_

“That would be cool, I know my way 'round a broom, but don't tell my mom that or she'll never let me out again.”

“We also try and mainline as many horror movies at the weekends as we can through September for ideas,” Ray adds, with Bob and Mikey sharing a quick questioning look, “loads of classic stuff with dodgy effects, so if you fancy joining us-”

“I...” Frank is grinning like an idiot, (or maybe a psychopath, Mikey thinks, it's a little hard to tell), “Yeah!”

“Excellent!” Gee lights up too, and Mikey can feel him bursting at the seams. In a rare moment of insight he can actually feel how happy his brother is and it makes him smile; it's only been a year since he got his powers and Mikey can't think of any time he's felt anything quite like that from him. It's infectious. “So, Mikey can tell you where and when, it'll be cool!”

“Great!” 

Mikey grins as they start to drift up from the table and busies himself confirming times and the right place for lunch the next day, then holds back as Gee and Frank head for the door together, lost in conversation about his Raven comic. As soon as they are out of earshot, he spins back to Ray and raises an eyebrow curiously.

“You invited him to movie night? You trying to give Gee a complex, or volunteering to block my view if they start making out in the back row?”

Shrugging, Ray swings into his jacket and shakes his head. “I don't know, I just... I've got a good feeling about the kid, and it just felt... right.”

“Right.” Mikey is sceptical, but Bob just claps Ray on the back.

“The kid seems okay, and Ray's hunches have been improving lately, that one about the cat was pretty impressive, so I say we give Frank a try. 'Sides, last couple of years we've been running ragged getting the Halloween stuff done in time and coming up with new stuff, fresh pair of eyes and other set of hands might help.”

“I guess,” Mikey says. “He seems really nice, and he's genuinely psyched to be hanging with us-”

“Dear God, when did we become cool rather than the group every sane person avoids?”

“And I'm guessing fancying Gee makes it easier to put up with his rambling.”

“Speaking of fancying,” Ray grins, “what's his verdict on whether you're fuckable or not?”

Blushing, Mikey grabs the mugs and puts them back on the counter, leaving Ray to fill in a confused Bob.

*********************************

Lunch the next day goes well. Really well. Frank gets on well with Mikey's friends, manages to avoid getting talked into joining the school band yet again by Brendon, and meets a guy named Nick who shares most of the same classes. They get on like a house on fire and Frank finally has someone to sit with and get through the more boring hours of the day by passing notes and asides on life, the universe and the meaning of rock, and comparing gig stories.

He does notice some slightly odd looks when they realise he met Gerard before Mikey, a strange little flutter of concerned eyebrows passing like a Mexican wave around the table, but he ignores it. It's probably not homophobia or anything like that; Brendon for one is the campest creature who ever twinkle toed across the Earth, but he's not quite sure what their problem is.

When he asks Nick about it later, he tries to shrug it off, then just sighs and turns to Frank, keeping his voice low to avoid being overheard.

“Gerard is just... Unlucky. Like, things seem to happen around him. Or to the people around him.” At Frank's incredulous snort, they both duck down, focusing on their books until the coast is clear again. “Look, man, Gerard is a nice enough dude, bit geeky but I get that, but just... If you're gonna hang out with him, make sure your medical insurance is up to date first.”

Frank wants to ask more but at that moment the teacher decides to ban all talking and actually pay attention so he has to get back to work. By the time he remembers to ask Nick what he means, the lesson is over and everyone is rushing out the door and the question slips out of his mind as fast as the students after the last bell.

************************************

The week goes quicker than the last, the days more fun now he has someone to sit with and the guys to chat with at lunch. It's low key and he can feel himself holding back, watching more than he talks, but it's a start. Mikey presses a piece of paper into his hand with a hand drawn map to the Way house on it and a suggested list of the best flavours of Pringles to bring (or as he puts it, something to stick in Gee's mouth to stop him talking through the whole movie. Frank has a couple of suggestions for that problem that aren't on the list but he keeps them to himself.)

So he turns up on their doorstep on Saturday afternoon, a bag of snacks under one arm and a couple of bottles of Pepsi under the other. It's a little surprising when it's Ray that opens the door, Mrs Way busy in the kitchen with more snacks for them and Mikey and Gee nowhere to be seen, but he gets the feeling that isn't unusual. The house has a welcoming feel to it, reminding him of Pete's house. His mom was a housewife and always there after school, the house warm and welcoming to anyone Pete happened to drag home with him. 

The house definitely isn't a better homes and gardens candidate though. Dirty shoes clutter up the hallway, complete with several messenger bags that he's sure belong to Gee; each of them has his distinctive doodling on, band logos, random quotes, and diamanté skulls some of the least surprising decorations. The kitchen has a slight haze of cigarette smoke in it, despite the food on the stove, and Bob is sitting up on one of the worktops, his greasy trainers banging against the cupboard and leaving a scuff mark, and a bemused looking cat is lurking underneath the table, staring at him imperiously. The door frame has Biro marks scratched into it with dates and an M or G after them, marking the brother's growth spurts and history.

It's a mess, a wonderful, scuffed up, full of history, well loved mess that makes him suddenly homesick, the new house still too clean and alien to him. There are no memories in his house, he hasn't even finished unpacking half his stuff yet, still needing more shelves and drawers and shit to replace the way he fit into his old room. It hurts for a second, watching the way Bob grins as Mrs Way offers him a taste of what he reckons must be chilli, the easy familiarity and motherly way she ruffles his hair making him feel a little bit of an outsider.

Then she turns, spotting him, and she smiles and it's warm and genuine and then she's hugging him, not that polite little tentative touch of a stranger but that full on hug that only mom's seem to know how to give. She drags him over to the stove, giving him a quick guided tour and admonishing Bob to put the drinks in the fridge to chill, all the time talking to him without any of the 'what do you want to do when you grow up' chit chat that so many of his mate's parents have resorted to before.

When she goes to offer him the chilli he hesitates, then is awestruck when she goes to a second pot, the 'veggie option' as she calls it, reassuring him as to its contents and getting him to taste it. Frank would never knock his mom's cooking, ever, but damn it's fucking good. He's sure he has the most inappropriate look on his face ever just as Mikey and Gee walk in and he can feel himself flushing but manages to get away with blaming it on the chilli. At least, he hopes he gets away with it.

Then, in a flurry of trays, glasses, bags and chaos they're decamping, clattering down a narrow set of stairs into the basement, which Frank figures is a good place for a TV room. When he spots the bed, band posters and general layer of clutter in the room (including several items of clothing he is never going to admit recognising as Gee's) the penny drops. It's Gee's bedroom. They're going to be watching films in Gerard's _bedroom_.

Shit.

When Gee bounces onto the bed, Frank hastily grabs an oversized cushion from the floor and drags it up against the wall nearby, sitting down close enough to not have to move to get anything (because trusting himself to be able to walk, in the dark, towards Gee whilst he's sprawled on his fucking bed is out of the question) but far enough away to avoid being tempted. To, y'know, grab Gee's hand or curl up in his lap or, like, bite him.

The chilli is hot in the bowl, his hands wrapping around it as Gee's room is weirdly cold, the small window wide open and letting in a surprising amount of air. It's cool but it's nice, and takes the edge of a slightly musty underground smell (which, to be blunt, isn't helped by the overflowing laundry hamper or mortuary slab of a bedside table that holds the remains of several days worth of coffee mugs.) 

The room warms up quickly with so many bodies in it and by the time the titles roll on the first film Frank's comfy and warmed by the fire of the chilli in his belly (and the Bacardi Bob has slipped into hispepsi). It's not like hanging out with Pete and Gabe; there's far less innuendo and touching, and not just of the birthday kind. Frank's a pretty tactile guy, but nothing compared to Pete, but here he holds himself back, watching and assessing how the guys act around each other.

Gee is definitely the most touchy of them, snuggling up to his brother then, when Mikey complains about chip crumbs in his hair, dragging Ray onto the covers with him and curling up in front of him like a dog, letting Ray play with his hair. Bob, on the other hand, has his own space. The chair is well worn and looks like the seat is close to collapsing but Bob sits in it like it's a throne, holding court over the irreverent chaos that is movie night.

Chaos is right, as they talk over large bits of the films. Okay, Gerard talks over large bits of the film whilst Mikey shuffles closer to the screen and Bob flicks on the subtitles with a 'I'm ignoring you' expression. Ray talks back, only encouraging him, and Frank slowly finds himself getting drawn into their debates, there being only so many blatantly stupid things he can listen to about b-movie lore before he has to correct them. 

The first time he speaks Gee throws him a delighted grin, that turns to a delicious pout when Frank disagrees with him and Frank can't help it, he goads Gee further just to see him start to turn red and the passion in his voice when he gets going. Before he even knows it the fourth film is winding down and so are they; Mikey is half asleep on the bed beside Gee, Bob is stoic but flagging, and Ray is snoring loudly, his hair seeming to tilt with each breath like a giant bobble head toy. As the credits roll, nobody has the energy to even suggest another film.

But he and Gee are still going, and somehow Frank isn't on his cushion any more but perched cross legged on the edge of the bed, his hands going crazy as he tries to make his point. However by this point he's mellow from the drink and a little sleepy and just ends up smacking Mikey's leg, earning him a filthy look and a growl. Sniggering, Gerard pats Mikey's head, more than a little drunk himself and in danger of putting Mikey's eye out rather than reassuring him. Huffing loudly, Mikey gets up and wriggles off the bed, muttering about not being able to even catch a nap and heads off to bed. Bob yawns widely and scratches his face, tracing over the fuzz of his half beard and takes off in search of the bathroom.

And just like that they're alone, (except for the snoring Ray but hey, he's not going to notice anything), in Gee's bedroom, sitting on his bed in the dark and they're drunk and warm and sleepy and if he did anything he could chalk it up to the alcohol. 

Then Gerard rolls back onto the bed, grinning drunkenly and Frank can see he's having trouble focusing. He's not just drunk, he's wasted. Frank could probably get him to do pretty much anything he wants right now, and Hell, he knows that level of drunk, Gerard probably wouldn't even remember in the morning.

So Frank twists on the bed, going on to all fours, and crawls across the bed. It's uneven and hard to do in his state, but he grins at Gee, maintaining eye contact all the time, even though he can see Gerard is having trouble focusing on him. When Frank plants one hand by Gee's hip and stretches over him, he can see Gee tense, his eyes fucking shot as he looks up whilst Frank reaches out one hand-

Grabbing Gee's beer before it spills onto the sheets, Frank clambers back away again and dumps it on the table with the rest. It takes a lot of willpower, but he stands up, swaying slightly in the dark room as he gets his balance. 

“Frank? You okay?”

Grabbing his bag and nodding, Frank waves him off quickly, risking a glance back over his shoulder. Gerard is still sprawled on the bed, his confused gaze sweeping unsteadily over Frank. His t -shirt rides up a little over his belly as he twists, trying to get closer but Frank quickly moves away. “I should probably get home.”

“Oh, yeah.” Gerard hesitates, biting the edge of his lip and Frank can feel himself getting hard just from the sight of it and oh, fuck, this is bad, really bad. “You can always crash over if you want.”

If he wants? Frank rolls the suggestion over in his mind, trying to glean every possible piece of information he can get from the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes; did he mean crash over in a sleep on the couch way or stay over in the sense of making the bed springs creak and trying not to wake the rest of the house? 

The fantasies about just what they could do in that bed vanish in an instant as Ray snorts in his sleep, wriggling in his chair and muttering something that almost sounds like a plane boarding call. As Ray's nightmare takes hold, he shakes his head, half falling off the chair and wakes himself up with a start, shouting.

“Failure in number two engine, we're going down!” 

“Ray, chill, you're on Terra firma,” Gee slurs from the bed, but he looks worried. Rolling over, he starts fumbling under the bed for something. “Dammit, where'd it go-”

Ray looks confused, hugging himself as he sits up on the chair again. “Fucking planes.”

“You okay?” Frank asks quickly, hunching over as his half boner fades again, sobering up quicker now. “You need a water or something?”

Chuckling, Ray shakes his head and swipes his hands over his hair, the curls springing back from his touch like a sponge. “Nah, just a good nights sleep.” Yawning, he nods at Frank, looking at the bag in his hand. “You want a lift Iero?”

“You've had a drink,” Gee half shouts quickly, surprisingly angry, but Ray shakes his head quickly.

“Not a drop, Gee, I swear, I'm good. Bob drank my share.”

“Bob drinks everyone's share,” Gee mutters mutinously even as Bob reappears.

“Bob fucking deserves it putting up with you lot,” Bob mutters, coming down the basement steps and tilting his head at Ray. “We off?”

“I think it's time,” Ray agrees, grabbing his own bag and scrubbing at the five o'clock shadow on his face. “Come on Frank, let's leave Gee to his beauty sleep.”

“He needs it,” Bob mutters, earning himself a glare, but Gee is half asleep again, collapsed back on the bed before they even reach the stairs. Frank is last, and as he glances back he can see Gee staring at him, Hell he can feel it in the dim light, and there's something in that look that just calls to him-

“Thanks for, y'know, having me!” he stutters out, then flushes, almost tripping over his own feet. Could he be any more of a fucking dork? But Gee just smiles and it lights up his face as he grabs his beer bottle again and raises it in a toast.

“Anytime Frank. Anytime.” Slurring slightly, he sighs and takes a sip. “You free tomorrow?”

Swallowing hard, Frank shrugs, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Come see my house, we gotta clean it out, big bedroom, be fun.”

“Cool. That sounds... Cool.”

“You don't have to,” Ray calls down the stairs, laughing. “It's a dump and we'll just be dropping off boxes, but if you fancy it we can come pick you up after lunch?”

“I do,” Frank says, stronger this time, and Gee grins at him. “I'd love to.”

Forcing himself to look away, Frank hurries up the stairs and wonders just what he is getting himself into.


	3. Chapter 3

“You guys seriously do this every year?” Frank can't believe his eyes. “How do you even have this place?”

“The land's been in the Way family, well, the Lee family really, for ages, belonged to some great aunt or something, but it's been abandoned for ages. When we finish with it I guess it might get torn down.” Gerard pats the wooden railing around the porch fondly. “She's served us well.”

The house is pretty normal really, just an old farmhouse on the outskirts of the town, but it's pretty shitty and weather worn, with peeling paint and loose boards. The windows are intact and there are hints of repair here and there, but generally it looks like what it is; a creepy, abandoned old home. The sun is low in the sky and the long autumn shadows are starting to cast fingers over the walls and it looks pretty scary.

Of course, this is not the first year it's played host to a Halloween bash. Frank can see leftover cobwebs and a frankly horrifically ghostly face leering at him from the glass on the second floor window. She looks like something out of Indiana Jones, all skeletal and creepy as fuck and she's etched or painted or something right onto the window. Except its not solid, the paint or whatever seems to disappear if the light isn't catching it right.

“That's fucking creepy.”

Gee grins and follows his gaze, shoving his hands in his pockets as he shrugs. “Old Gertie? Yeah she's a family fave, been with us since the beginning. We change other stuff but never Gertie, although I do touch her up each year of course-” He blushes as though he's just realised what he's said and Frank can't help laughing.

“Whatever turns you on.” Bouncing up the creaking wooden steps onto the porch, Frank tries to peer through the windows but heavy curtains or something block the way. There's a hint of movement in the blackness though, and he frowns, leaning closer.

“Holy fuck!” The cloth rips away and a face appears, startling him, and Frank instinctively backs away, bumping into Gee and sending them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Ray is there, roaring at them through the glass, even as Gee grabs him tight to stop him flailing further. “Shit!”

“Hey, relax, it's not even Halloween yet. That's when we get the good shit going.”

Frank calms down and suddenly realises he's lying on top of Gerard. As in properly on top of him, pressing him down into the ground, their legs intertwined and his lips hovering above Gee's, staring into his eyes and fuck they are so dark and-

Scrambling off him, Frank sits still on the mud and grass and tries to still his breathing, pressing his legs tight together to try and hide what he's sure is the most obvious boner in the history of boners. Gee must have seen it, Hell he could probably feel it, and oh, shit, this is too weird.

“Hey Gee, can you give me a hand with this?”

Frank has never been so pleased to hear Mikey's voice and Gee obediently gets up and hurries away, maybe a slight limp to his walk. He must have hurt his leg when Frank fell on him. Not good. Frank fakes an undone shoelace to stay on the ground a little longer, willing his dick to subside a little. He can't hear what Mikey's saying to Gee but he looks almost amused. Probably mocking Frank's pathetic reaction to a fright.

Yeah, he's gonna be a great help.

Finally able to move again, Frank lurches to his feet and hurries over to the car; he may not really be very creative and shit, but he can move boxes at least. Well, he thought he could; the first one he almost drops.

“Shit, what you got in here, bricks?”

“Pretty much,” Mikey says, picking up another one as though it's filled with just air or fairy wings or some other floaty stuff. “Gee's paints are a bit heavy.”

“No shit.” Frank adjusts his grip and bends down to try again, trying not to get distracted by the sight of Gee stretching into the car behind him. No distractions. “Why isn't Bob here hauling this stuff, he's gotta be stronger than me right?”

“He's got a late pick up at the garage,” Gerard says, “then he's bringing a load of tools up for the traps and shit. Come on Iero, we can handle it.”

“Fine but if I pull a muscle you can rub it for me.”

Gee blushes, but nods, a grin on his face. “Deal.”

Ducking his head down before Mikey sees, Frank gets back to work.

It takes them the best part of an hour to load the supplies into a weird storage cupboard thing under the stairs, and organise them to Ray's satisfaction, before Gee starts going off on a long lecture about paint types and medium things and the right brush and all sorts of stuff. Frank would be bored, except Gee is really animated when he talks and he finds himself just staring at his hands and the way his fingers describe different strokes and colours. Frank suspects he would do better in all his classes if Gee could be his teacher instead.

The guys then give him the grand tour, introducing him to Gertie properly, showing him the trick floorboards and hidden buzzers, Gee talking a mile a minute about what's going to go where and how the zombies are gonna look. It's pretty awesome.

At least until they reach the 'haunted bedroom'.

“Aww shit, fucking kids!” Ray is in there first, the rickety old wooden bed riddled with woodworm holes and creaky and it smells really, really funky. That's nothing compared to the used condoms on the floor though. “Seriously, they can't find anywhere better to screw around than here?”

“That's... That's so gross...” Frank is lost for words, just watching as Gee shrugs and pulls some latex gloves from his pocket - and why the Hell is he carrying gloves like that? Frank's brain trips a circuit somewhere and all sorts of weird and fucked up glove fetishes he didn't even know he had make a sudden technicolor explosion in his head.

Gee simply picks up the condoms and waves them at Mikey, who throws him a paper bag to put them in. Wincing, Gee shoves them safely away, and grabs the rest of the rubbish around the bed, before staring sadly at the old mattress.

“I really hope they at least put a blanket down or she is gonna have some seriously nasty bites on her ass.”

Frank can't help it, he giggles, and Gee turns and grins, shrugging as Mikey holds a second bag open wide and Gee drops both the rubbish and the gloves into it, stripping them off with that snapping sound that is so wrong and somehow so right.

“Her ass if she's lucky,” Mikey says, tying the bag tight and shrugging. “I heard that one girl, she...” 

Frank misses the rest of the sentence as Ray chooses that moment to force open one of the windows, sending a gust of wind and dust racing through the room and, from the feel of it, into a mini tornado straight into Frank's lungs. The laugh turns into a cough with lightning speed and Frank tries not to panic as he bends over and can't get any fucking air into his lungs, all the precious oxygen replaced with dust and probably bugs and all sorts of crap and, oh, this is it, after all he's been through he's going to choke to death on other people's skin cells and bits of wood-

“Frank!” 

He can barely hear Mikey over his coughs, his head spinning as he tries to see through tear filled eyes, his head feeling like it's going to explode.

“Oh shit, is he asthmatic or something? Does he have an inhaler?”

“I don't know!” Mikey looks panicked, grabbing Frank's face and forcing him to look up. “Frank, do you need an inhaler or something?”

He can only manage a small shake but it's enough, he can feel the panic taking over, turning each small breath into a painful gasp-

“It's gotta be the dust, he needs fresh air, Ray-”

Someone is lifting him up, hitching him into strong arms like a rag doll, and a brush of soft hair tickles his face. Ray. He can feel the thud of the stairs as they hurry out of the house and the cleaner air outside is a welcome wash of cool over his skin as Ray lowers him to the grass.

“Frank, just calm down okay, focus on my voice.” He can hear Mikey, clearer now somehow, like someone turned up the bass, and looks up, feeling his hands tight in Mikey's even as someone else is sliding in behind him on the grass, holding him up. A familiar waft of cheap body spray hits his lungs in a painful way, but the India ink stained fingers wrapping over his chest and holding him, forcing him to straighten up, are so warm and soothing. Gerard.

“You're gonna be fine Frank, just breathe, okay? Breathe with Gee, come on, you can manage it.” He can feel Gerard's fingers spread over his chest, warm and soothing, and pressing against him in a rhythm, forcing him back against Gee's body and he can feel the slow steady breaths whispering past his ear and the steady monotone of Mikey's calm voice encouraging him.

He tries to copy Gee but it hurts, it fucking kills, and he can remember the hospitals and the masks and oxygen and his mom watching him with such frightened eyes and he doesn't want to do that again, not again. As he tries to breathe something seems to tug loose in his chest, as though a closed door has shifted open, and he can feel air starting to get through. 

Opening his eyes wide, he gasps and this time it works, sweet air rushing into his body and making him cough again but this time when the cough fades and he tries to breath in it works. It takes what feels like forever, but piece by piece the pressure starts to fade, his lungs sore as hell and feeling like they've been sandpapered, but not as bad as they deserve to be after an attack like that. Even when the coughing stops, he stays curled in Gerard's arms, Mikey kneeling in front of him and still talking to him softly.

Finally, he manages to push forward out of Gerard's arms and drag himself to his feet, with a little help from Ray. He can tell by the shocked looks on their faces he must look like Hell, and he doesn't even have enough pale skin left to blush from the sheer embarrassment of what just happened. At least, he thinks he doesn't until his face seems to catch fire again as Bob pulls up and takes in the group of them standing round in the grass.

“What. The. Fuck?”

“Frank had this big asthma attack thing-” Ray starts, then Mikey cuts in.

“The dust in the bedroom set him off-”

“And we had to get him outside-”

“And calm him down and-”

Holding his hands up to stop them, Bob just looks at Frank and tilts his chin at him. “You okay?”

Nodding, Frank waves off his concern. “Just need to give up the cigarettes and dust bunnies.”

With a final appraising look, Bob nods, and jerks his thumb back at his car. “Take a break. Rest of you, I've got the tools and cleaning shit, come give me a hand.”

Gerard looks as though he wants to stay, his face really pale as he looks at Frank, but Frank deliberately avoids his eyes and instead heads over to sit on the rotting porch steps leading up to the house. Finally Mikey pokes Gee to get him moving and Frank is left in peace to get his breath back and try not to think about just much of a fucking loser he must look.

***********************************

Bob leans back against the car as the others come over, staring hard at Gee. “You healed him?”

“Not fully, I couldn't, but I helped-”

“Mikey, did he notice it?”

Shaking his head, Mikey glances back at the house and the slumped figure of Frank on the steps. “No, I was in his head the whole time, he just thinks we helped him calm down. Which we did-”

“But he doesn't suspect or know you used magic, you're sure, he doesn't have any clue?”

“None.” Mikey sounds certain and Bob nods again, but Gee still looks pale. Ray rubs his back and Gerard throws him a tired smile.

“Gee, you okay?” Ray asks kindly, and Gee nods.

“Tired, I feel like I ran a marathon, but I'm okay.”

Bob glances at the car and then nods to Mikey and Ray. “Let's just dump the stuff and call it a night, we should get Frank home before he spots anything's up. Gee, go check on Frank or close up or something, we'll finish this up.” Nodding, Gerard ambles off, almost stumbling in the grass with tiredness and Bob tries not to worry. “Mikey. What's wrong with Frank?”

Shrugging, Mikey starts loading himself up with gear from the car and tries to put it into words. “He's been sick, hospital or something, he's got shit lungs, then when he started coughing he panicked and made it worse. We should give him one of the masks we use when painting next time.”

“Next time.” Bob laughs, and hands his 'spare' toolbox to Ray. “You really think that's a good idea? I like the kid, but if Gee's going to be getting all healing handsy every time-”

“It's a one off,” Ray says firmly, “drop it Bob.”

“Is that you speaking or the prophet,” Bob snaps back.

“Both.” 

They stare at each other in silence for a long moment before Bob nods, grabbing the last things from the car and slamming the trunk shut.

**********************************

Gerard tries to keep the tiredness out of his moves as he slumps gratefully down onto the porch steps beside Frank. Frank is still breathing hard, but his colour looks much better and the shaking has stopped. At his arrival, Frank throws him a reassuring smile from under his hair, before dropping his gaze back to his knees. His fingers are playing over the torn denim, toying with the frayed edges, and Gerard finds himself mesmerised by them. It's not until a rattling wheeze of a cough shakes through Frank that he remembers why he's there.

He can't believe he didn't see it before. It's a smudge in Frank's aura, like a wisp of grey cloud, hanging over Frank's chest, and it seems to fluctuate, ebbing and flowing like the tide with every breath. It was so big before, a dark stain, but with Gerard's help it's wispy again and a light grey, just enough to affect Frank without really hurting him any more.

That doesn't mean Gerard doesn't have to sit on his hands to try and resist the urge to touch him, to try and heal him all the way.

“You should have said-”

“It's nothing,” Frank cuts him off, folding his arms across his chest. “I just... I had a bad cough over the summer and my lungs are a bit more fucked than I thought still. No big deal.”

“Frank, if you'd said, I-”

“You what?” Frank looks up angrily, staring at him hard, as though looking right through every mask he's ever worn. “You would have looked after me? Not let me come? Left me in the car or on carrying the dainty box duty? I don't need protecting Gee, I don't need pity.”

Snorting, Gerard gets up, pushing his hands deep into his pockets as he looks down at Frank. “No pity, you idiot.” Jogging up the steps into the house, he can feel Frank watching him as he disappears inside, like leaving a puppy at the doorway waiting for him to come home. Grabbing what he needs from one of the boxes, he returns, sitting down beside Frank and dropping the white object in his lap.

“Face masks. We use them when we're doing the paint, some of the fumes are pretty funky. Mikey and Ray wear fucking bandannas and head scarves when we're doing the really messy stuff, and Bob is allergic to most face paints so he has to wear a mask and can't use any make-up on Halloween, 'less its hypoallergenic. And me,” Gee smiles, “I'm terrified of needles.”

Frank frowns. “What's that got to do with the house?”

“Nothing, just figured it might help make the point. We've all got issues Frank, we all make adjustments, and it's nothing, so next time you have a problem, you fucking tell me before we're all scared half to death and wondering how to tell your mom we've killed you. Okay?” In spite of himself, Frank grins and fiddles with the mask, pulling the straps out and placing it over his face. “Suits you.”

“What can I say, I'm so gorgeous I make even this shit look good.”

Swatting him round the back of the head, Gee goes to stand but collapses back down again as his pulse pounds in his head, forcing his eyes closed.

“Gee, you okay?”

Forcing himself to nod, Gerard tries to shake it off. “Head rush, I think all that rushing around's more exercise than I'm used to.”

“You and me both.” 

Mikey calls them over, the car unloaded and everyone ready to lock up and go, and Frank stands first this time, helping Gee up, pulling him to his feet a little too hard, making Gee stagger into him. They stand frozen, pressed together, hands held firm, just for a second, and Gee can feel the urge to heal him further, even though he's already tired. Instead, he lets go and walks away, feeling Frank's eyes following him all the way to the cars.

********************************

Frank manages to avoid his mom's direct gaze as he hurries through the house, running up to his room as fast as his tortured lungs can take before quickly toeing off his sneakers and throwing himself down on the bed. His chest aches, like he's bruised his ribs, but he can breathe clearly and that is a surprise. Closing his eyes he focuses on that, listening to each breath and straining to find any bastard give away rattle before his mom spots it.

Nothing.

He's a little wheezy, just at the very end of his exhale, but he's had worse. From experience, he knows he should stick to nicotine patches for a day or two to give his lungs a break – but likewise, from experience he knows he'll manage 24 hours then crumble. Still, a break's a break. 

Grabbing his phone, he thumbs out a message with ease before sending it to Gabe.

_n case i die in nite had attack 2day feel ok though. How u doin_

Tossing it back onto the bedside table he jumps as it starts ringing just a few seconds later and grabs it again. “'Lo?”

_“Frank, fuck, man, you alright?”_

“Yeah, seriously, I'm fine, just inhaled a shitload of dust and had a coughing fit. It's cool, I breathed it out, didn't need to call anyone or anything, the guys took care of me.”

_“Fuck. Shit Frankie, you've gotta be more careful with those weedy little lungs of yours, hoover your dump of a room before the bunnies take over man!”_

Laughing, Frank winces as a harsh cough forces its way up in retaliation. “Fuck you man, my room is immaculate, I was at the guys' Haunted House place, we were just cleaning up.”

He can hear Gabe sigh and braces himself for the inevitable.

_“You went to a mouldy old abandoned house and offered to help clean it up? For fuck's sake Frank, you trying to kill yourself?”_

“Not my style, 'sides, death by dust bunnies ain't exactly a cool way to go.”

_“No shit. You sure you're okay?”_

“Honest. Just thought I should tell someone, and I don't wanna freak Mom out again.”

 _“Yeah, she's had enough shit from you.”_ He can hear Gabe sigh over the line and can almost picture him shaking his head. _“At least tell me you got a sympathy snog out of your beau for your efforts?”_

“Fuck you,” Frank grins to himself, his free hand playing over his chest at the memory of Gerard wrapped around him. “I ain't fucking sleeping beauty.”

_“More like choking beauty.”_

“Whatever. Where's Pete?”

_“Out getting himself into trouble somewhere. He's determined to nail some Sorority chick-”_

“Chick?”

_“Hey, it's college, you're supposed to experiment in college.”_

Sniggering, Frank shrugs and settles his ribs further down into the covers, wriggling contentedly. “Yeah, but a Sorority girl? For real?”

_“I think he's actually hoping for a threesome with her boyfriend.”_

Frank winces and shakes his head. “Eww. Enough.”

Gabe laughs, and Frank can hear an edge of something in his tone. _“Listen, Frankie, we were thinking-”_

“Bad start.”

_“I know your mom has that whole birthdays are for family BS thing going, but we were thinking what if you come on a little road trip to see us for your birthday? You'd be crashing on the floor or bunking in with us, but if she doesn't mind-”_

“Yes! I mean, no, I mean, of course she won't mind- I mean.... Fuck yeah!”

Gabe laughs again and Frank can feel his smile threatening to split his face. _“Cool, I'll see if we can steal a car and drive on down to pick you up, maybe see if we can't inject some big city fun into your shitty small town life. Hey, if your mom is letting you visit, you may as well see if we can have a real party, bring the cute brothers back to the big city with you, maybe we can get us an orgy!”_

“Gabe-”

_“I'm kidding. Unless the younger one really is hot. But we'll leave your boys alone. If they leaves us alone...”_

“Fuck off, Gabe.”

_“So, check with momma Iero and let us know, hey kid? And if she says no, we'll come down anyway and kidnap you and drive off somewhere to have our wicked way with you.”_

“Looking forward to it.”

_“Oh Frankie, sweetcheeks, we will give you a birthday to remember.”_

“I haven't forgotten my last one yet.”

_“Mmmmm I should hope not. Sweet dreams Frankie angel.”_

**********************************

Frank settles into a steady routine for the next few days, hanging out with Nick in class, Mikey and the guys at lunch, strolling home via the comic book shop to say a quick hi to Gee and see whether they are going to the house that night or Gee is working late. If they're not, he tries to hide his disappointment and heads home through the cemetery for a night of dinner, homework, TV and bed.

If they are though, his dinner is bolted in record time before he changes into his old clothes and runs down to the other side of the cemetery to meet them. Bob usually drives, the car stuffed stupid with guys and paint and gear, and the windows rolled down in spite of the cool evening to let the cigarette smoke out as they sing along with Bob's music blasting from the stereo. Whether it's painting or sewing or hammering or cleaning or the weird thing with cables and wires Bob has going on, the work is tiring and by the return journey they are quieter, the back seat somehow feeling smaller as they lean against each other.

Frank loves the return journey most of all, pressed up tight against Gee in the back seat, even with the smoke and smell of sweat. It's too warm on one side and freezing everywhere else and he aches and smells and can't wait to get home and take a shower, but it's nice.

Every night when he gets home, he nags his mom again about whether he can go visit Pete and Gabe for his birthday, negotiating over the weekend and where he can stay and how late he can stay out and of course he won't drink and a hundred small details she seems determined to drag out for some reason.

After a week she finally caves in and, with a delighted grin Frank heads to bed, texting Gabe and Pete to confirm the date then settling down in the covers and feeling like Christmas Eve. 

***********************************

Mikey yawns into his macaroni and cheese and tries not to notice the way it's been cooked so long that half the pasta has almost turned to goo whilst the other half is dried out and feels hard enough to break the fork. Cafeteria food sucks but he overslept and didn't have time to grab something for lunch before school. Frank's practically buzzing beside him and it's exhausting trying to not hear his thoughts, even through the noise of the crowded cafeteria. 

It's definitely going to be a migraine day.

Slipping his hand into his messenger bag, Mikey roots around until he finds a bottle of painkillers and flips the lid, rattling two into his hand with ease. Swallowing them, he returns his attention to his food and stabs at the pasta with a wince.

“That bad huh?” Frank's grinning like a loon, tucking into his own weird vegan salad thing that looks like cooked bird seed in some sort of sauce, and Mikey blinks slowly, his headache growing as though sensing it's about to face death by Tylenol.

“I think they're trying to create a strain of nuclear strike resistant macaroni. I feel like I should be making a bomb shelter out of it.”

Frank giggles, bumping his shoulder against Mikey, and glances round the table before lowering his voice. “I wanted to ask, my birthday's coming up and whilst I can't have a party-”

“Did someone say party?” Brendon looks up and grins, goofy and adorable and annoying all at the same time. “Where and when baby, I'm in!” Frank looks embarrassed and Mikey suddenly gets a flash of an image of Frank's mom, looking stern.

“You're _in_ , Brendon? That would make a change,” Mikey says quickly, heading Brendon off as quickly as possible. “Halloween wrap party of course, at the house, you coming?”

“As often as possible!”

Rolling his eyes, Mikey waits until Brendon returns his attention to the others and Frank throws him a grateful grin. “Halloween wrap party?”

Waving his hand non-committally Mikey nods. “Just beers whilst the AV lot get their gear out and we take everything down. Nothing that major. So, you were saying?”

“Yeah, I can't do anything round the house, Mom's a bit...”

“Yeah.”

“And I'm gonna go visit some friends afterwards, but I didn't want you guys to think... I mean I would love to have you all round-”

Snorting, Mikey stabs at his macaroni and watches a dry piece shoot across the table and land on Brendon's arm. “It's cool man, I'm sure we can figure out another way to celebrate.” Scraping some stringy cheese off the edge of the dish, he can feel Frank's embarrassment at not being able to have a proper party – and Frank's own surprise that he even has enough friends that it would be an option. “So when you visiting your mates?”

“Saturday after Halloween, I'm going back to New York to see my old friends, Pete and Gabe. They're good guys, you'd like them.”

Mikey considers. He's not heard much about them really, Frank surprisingly quiet about his past despite being very vocal on everything else. Not to mention the overheard fuckable comment...

Mikey nods, throwing Frank a small smile. “Yeah, I'm sure we would.”

Frank looks embarrassed again, remembering too, and nods. “It should be a good weekend, haven't seen them in ages.”

Mikey nods and stabs at his macaroni again. “Sounds awesome man. And I'm sure we can wrangle a DVD marathon or something to celebrate.” Taking a bite off the end, he gives up and pushes the plate away, resolving to visit the vending machine later instead. “So, whatdya want for your birthday?”

Frank grins again, a weird look on his face and Mikey tries not to wince as a thought comes through loud and clear and twice as disturbing. _*Your brother*_

“Um, I'll have a think.”

Mikey sighs, focusing instead on Brendon, and really hopes he won't pick up on what exactly Frank wishes for for his birthday.

*************************************

It turns out Gerard wasn't kidding about the paint fumes being evil. 

Frank watches from the other end of the porch, carefully positioned upwind, as Gee mixes up his colours like a potion, a dash of this and a stir of that, the colours changing under his care like magic. His legs are spread either side of the paint pot, the paints and supplies arranged around him in what he swears is a specific order (but looks like 'upended box' style filing to Frank) as he stirs his mixture with a stick and mutters about it not being the right shade of green yet.

Frank isn't sure what the difference is in the shades or why it matters, but instead contents himself to watch, sitting cross legged on the porch and sewing long lengths of black cloth together with shitty stitches and blood. After stabbing himself for the fifth time, he pushes the cloth away and sticks his finger in his mouth, sucking hard to get it to stop bleeding.

“Fucking needles.” He's intent on his stinging finger, rolling his tongue over it to check for bleeding, then pulling it back and squeezing the pad to check the blood flow, but when he looks up he finds Gee watching him, his hair pulled back off his face by a black and paint speckled headband. As soon as he's spotted, Gee ducks his head, going back to his painting, a slight flush on his face that Frank can't figure out. Sucking on his finger again, he ponders it, wondering if Gerard's hatred of needles includes sewing needles.

As he pulls his finger out again, a faint popping sound accompanying it, his brain finally catches up with him. 

“Oh.” Ducking his head, Frank tries not to grin, and is tempted to tease Gerard by carrying on but isn't that cruel. Not today anyway. Waiting until the moment has passed, he picks up the sewing again and tries to remember what Ray showed him. Put the two seams together, push the needle through both, without stabbing himself, pull it tight, move a little then do it again...

“Fuckit!”

This time Gee laughs when Frank pulls his hand back, sucking on his bleeding finger, and Frank flips him off. 

“You want me to show you how much of a laughing matter this is Way?” Frank mocks, brandishing the needle and trying not to take too much pleasure in the way Gee instantly surrenders, putting his hands up, paint dripping from the stick he's holding onto his jeans. Gerard doesn't even notice, and in a few seconds the paint is blending in with the rest of the stains and smudges and ink and what looks like neon pink nail varnish on the denim.

“No, no, it's fine, sewing's really tough. Manly.”

“Manly. I'm getting macho shit from the guy who owns pearlescent peach paint?”

“It was for a class.” Gee blushes again, returning his stick and attention to the paint, but his smile remains, and Frank cautiously crawls across the porch towards him, careful to not get too close to the cauldron of paint.

“Yeah right, I believe you Gee, millions wouldn't.” Grabbing a mask from the deck, he straps it over his face and winces at the smell of the paint before looking at Gerard. “Dunno how you can stand this stuff.”

“You get used to it,” Gerard admits, stirring in a dash of bogey coloured paint. “I'll use the masks when I'm inside but I don't need it out here.”

Neither reacts as a loud crash comes from inside the house, followed by the sound of Mikey and Ray arguing.

“Is that the fourth or the fifth time they've dropped that board?”

“Sixth.” Gerard carries on stirring, the paint mixing in to his satisfaction. Picking a brush, he strokes it through the paint before grabbing a broken fence post he's been using to test the colours. Intent on his work, he creates a vivid green streak on the wood, the colour a bit bright for Frank's taste, but then it starts to dry, the colour changing subtly and a soft sheen developing until-

“Oh. Slime green!”

“Yes!” Grinning broadly, Gee offers him the post and Frank takes it with a wry grin, not sure just how much enthusiasm he can fake for paint colours. “See the way it shimmers in the light, I've added in some glow in the dark paint too so it should light up, plus the primer reacts amazingly with UV and-”

“I trust you!” Frank laughs, handing him back the post. “It's green, it's awesome.” Gerard grins and ducks his head, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear and adding a streak of slime green to his cheek. Shaking his head, Frank grabs a wet wipe from a dog eared packet on the porch and crawls closer, Gee looking up in surprise and freezing.

“Frank, what-”

“Shut up a sec.” Grabbing Gee's chin in his left hand, Frank leans in and drags the wipe slowly over Gerard's cheek, catching the paint before it starts to set. It takes a couple of tries, but the green fades, leaving pink skin behind.

Very pink skin.

As he finishes, Frank finds himself face to face with Gerard, just a couple of inches from his lips, and he hesitates. There's something about the way Gee is looking at him, his face flushed under Frank's fingers, his eyes dark as fuck, and Frank knows that this is it, this is the opportune moment, time to make his move, he can feel his heart start to race, his breath heavy through the mask over his face-

“Oh, shit.” Pulling back a second he lets go of Gee and tugs the mask down, moving back in quickly-

Too late. The spell is broken as Gerard grabs his stirring stick again, holding it across his lap like a barrier, before returning to stirring the paint.

“I should get started, it's best to use it whilst it's fresh-”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” Frank says, scrambling back across the porch to his work and trying not to feel like a fucking idiot. He grabs the needle and blackout material and drapes it across his legs, hiding under it, and focusing solely on the needle.

In, out, in, out, just the needle, he is resolutely not watching Gee clamber to his feet and the way he seems to be moving a little stiffly, keeping his back to Frank before hurrying into the house.

In, out, stab-

This time, Frank just ignores the pain and carries on. 

********************************

“I keep telling you, if you put it there it won't support the weight!”

“What, did your crystal ball tell you that?”

“No, common sense, graduating High School and not actually falling asleep in physics!”

Gerard ignores the sound of Mikey and Ray arguing, figuring he'll intervene if they actually start throwing stuff, but until then they will get over it. They do this pretty much every year, wind each other up over details until someone (usually Bob) just comes in and shows them how to do it. 

Pulling a mask over his face, green fingerprints marking it already, he ignores the others, slipping on a pair of headphones and losing himself in something a bit more pleasant. Ray has some weird playlist of his on upstairs but Gee prefers to go a bit more mellow whilst painting. Closing his eyes and letting the beat flow through him, he takes a deep breath and starts to work.

He doesn't know how long it takes, doesn't really worry about anything but the ghostly goblin taking shape before him, his sketch tacked to the wall for guidance and his pencil outlines swiftly vanishing under the layers of paint. It's soothing, relaxing, and he lets go of his worries and distractions for a while.

At least until the memory of Frank sucking hard on his finger, his cheeks hollowing, the faint traces of his tongue working beneath them, slips back in.

Pushing it aside as best he can, Gee returns to work, but just knows he is going to have some ferocious dreams that night.

***********************

The month flies by, the house taking shape ever so slowly at first, then with a sudden burst of energy everything seems to start coming into place. Frank can't quite believe how a simple old house can be made into so much more but the guys are definitely geniuses. It's going to be amazing.

He just hopes he can find a way to get there.

The walk through goes well, Gerard gesturing expansively at every trick and trap, talking them all through it whilst they give him indulgent smiles. It is his baby in a way, an unspoken truth between them that this, planning this, keeps him sane in the small town. It's when he starts describing where everyone will be standing, running stalls, triggering traps, or jumping out on people, that Frank starts to get a hollow feeling in his stomach.

“Mikey, you're on the door as always, you're too sweet to be properly scary, but I'll do your face paint as usual, and Frank, you can be-”

“Uh, I might not be here.”

He wants to pull the blackout curtains he spent an entire day sewing together down from the ceiling and hide under them, anything to avoid seeing that look on Gee's face. “But... But why? I thought-”

“It's my birthday-”

“You were born on All Hallows Eve?” Ray asks, an odd edge in his voice. “What time?”

Snorting, Frank drags a hand through his hair. “I dunno, late, Mom always bitches about having to make her way through drunk guys in costume just to get to the delivery suite. She was pretty stoned by then.”

“A Halloween baby?” Gee says, grinning, “That is so cool.”

“Thanks.”

“So we'll make sure we don't work you too hard and you get to celebrate your birthday too, it'll be fun!”

“No, it's not that,” Frank rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “It's my Mom, she kindof likes to do family stuff on the actual day, y'know?”

“Oh.”

“Hey, we understand man,” Bob says reassuringly, patting him on the back, even as Gerard's grin fades and he starts to look like he's going to sulk or something. “We've all got those issues with the folks. So this family thing, is it all night, or any chance you can fake a headache and sneak out early?”

Laughing, Frank shrugs. “I can try. But how am I gonna get here?”

“I'll come get you,” Bob offers, nodding. “Call me if you manage to sneak out and I'll swing back into town. Text if it all goes wrong and you can't get away and we'll leave you to it. Gotta at least try.”

“Yeah.” Frank can feel himself cheering up, and tries to smile at Gee, but he still looks a little pissed. “I should've told you earlier-”

“We should've asked when your birthday was,” Mikey says quickly, staring at Gee. “It's a cool birthday though.”

“Yeah,” Gee seems to brighten a little. “Yeah, totally! Okay, so I'll take up position here instead, I'll do you a mask to save time if you can't get away early for make-up, and we'll jerry rig the remotes for the trap in the bedroom.” Nodding to himself, Gee claps his hands and carries on the tour. “Okay, sorted, so, when they get in here...”

Frank tunes him out a little again, and feels a soft bump against his side as Mikey moves next to him. With a grin, he bumps back and feels relief wash through him. This is gonna be okay.

And they think a Halloween birthday is cool.

*****************************

Gerard finds himself jumping every time the transporter door chime sounds, hoping it will be Frank, even though it's the wrong time of day. Packing up the internet orders takes more and more of his day as Halloween approaches, costumes and accessories flying out the door, none of the mass chain store cheap copies for Charlie's stock. Everything is genuine, authenticated, licensed and expensive. 

Not that Gee will be wearing any of it for Halloween. Every spare moment he has behind the beaded curtain is spent on finishing the costumes for the house. Bob's mask is already sculpted, a simple boring base layered up and raised with paper and recycled packaging, a hideous devil face leering up from the end of the table. It's still unfinished, the colours not done yet, but he knows exactly what is going to go where, just as soon as it has dried out a little more.

He's sketching over the vampire paint he's designing for Mikey's face when the door goes again, his fingers slipping against the ink pot and spilling bright red over his hand. “Shit. Uh, be right with you!”

Grabbing a tissue, he's hastily dabbing at his hands as he pushes through the curtain and grins as he spots Frank perched on the edge of the counter. Glancing at the red mess, Frank raises an eyebrow.

“You're afraid of needles but you can slash your own wrists?”

Shaking his head, Gee flips him off with one very red finger, the smell of the ink thick in the air as he tosses the filthy tissue in the trash. “You're early.”

“Skipped gym, waste of time anyway.”

“With your puny arms, yep.”

Grinning, Frank leans over the counter as far as he can, fingers gripping tight onto the edge as he tries to see past the beaded curtain. “So whatcha been up to, other than making yourself look like an extra from Texas Chainsaw Massacre?”

“Halloween stuff, which reminds me, as you're here...” Disappearing behind the curtain, he digs into a box under the plain piece of paint splattered plywood that passes for a drawing desk tacked up along the wall. Grabbing the plain mask base out of the box he hurries back into the shop. “Need to measure you up.”

“Measure me up?” Frank frowns, reaching out and taking the mask, placing it over his face and blinking through the eyeholes. “Okay, but if you wanna do my inseam, I'm gonna need a responsible adult present.”

Laughing, Gee takes the mask back and motions Frank closer, trying not to notice as Frank slides his legs over the counter, his sneakers squeaking on the countertop as he twists. Gee isn't watching the skinny legs dangle down on his side of the counter, the first time Frank's been inside his space, and he definitely isn't wondering what it would be like to slip his fingers inside the rips revealing Frank's knees, silver scar lines covering the revealed skin.

Distracting himself, Gerard quickly grabs a tape measure and ribbon, threading it deftly to the mask and holding it up to Frank's face. He has to stand between Frank's legs to reach properly and can feel the gentle pressure of Frank's knees against his hips, not quite light enough to be accidental but not firm enough to be definitely deliberate. 

Frank places his fingers flat against the mask, holding it over his face as Gee tries to get the length right, hooking the ribbon over Frank's ears and around his hair. Stray wisps keep escaping and Gee tries to hook them back around the ribbon and under the edge of the mask, his fingertips brushing against Frank's scalp.

“H- How does that feel?” Gerard's voice sounds shaky even to himself, and this close all he can see of Frank is his eyes, peering out from the blank canvas of the mask.

“Good.”

“Not too tight?”

Frank's breath is loud against the mask and his chuckle deeper than usual. “No, feels just right.”

Gerard has to swallow hard, his tongue too big in his mouth as he checks the shape of the mask, Frank's hand dropping down to his lap as Gee finishes tying the mask, the ribbon holding it in place. Forcing his professionalism back into play, Gee focuses on pressing against the mask, making small pencil marks on it and testing it against Frank's face and figuring out where the weight can be built up to handle the shape. 

But when Frank's hand brushes against his side, he pauses, all too aware of it. The warmth of Frank's fingers seems to be seeping through his t-shirt, pressing against his ribs and he can't move, freezing in place. He doesn't even notice whether it's his fingers or Frank's that pull the ribbons at the back of the mask, letting it drop down between them.

The shop seems to shift around them, his head spinning as Frank kisses him, no hesitation or questioning, just honest and obvious and there's no way to mistake it as anything but intentional. It's not the best kiss he's ever had, eyes wide open, his hands fluttering uselessly against Frank's back, the kiss too hard and eager, a little sloppy as Frank holds on to him, trapping him in place with arms and thighs and lips. He shouldn't be kissing back but he can't help it, he's wanted this ever since Frank walked in the door.

He can see everything in the dim red glow of the comic shop, smell the bottle of ink he spilt earlier, hear the faint sound of the radio he has in the back blasting tinny rock into the background. He can feel Frank's hands gripping onto the front of his t-shirt so tight it hurts, the material across his back stretched so taut he can't believe it hasn't ripped.

He can taste the lips pressing so hard against his, his hands finally deciding to grip tight onto thin shoulders, though whether he is pulling close or pushing away even he can't tell. He pulls back for a moment and Frank jumps down off the counter, following him, dark eyes staring up at him with such intensity it burns, as though there is something more than human there, something deeper, something so powerful-

Gee pushes back, forcing Frank against the counter and kisses him back, fierce, their teeth clashing and lips splitting, the taste of blood mixing with cigarettes and coffee and gum and it's gross but so real, so _them_ he could come just from the taste of it. It's been so fucking long since he has had this, since anyone has so much as looked at him the way Frank does, let alone kissed him, and it feels so good-

A face flashes through his mind, a different kiss, a different night, a kiss that turned into goodbye-

“No...” Gee steps back, the face all he can see, freaking him out a little, but Frank follows, still holding tight even as he twists away from the kiss. “No, I don't... We can't...” He tries to slip out of Frank's grip, grabbing Frank's arms as best he can. “No!” Finally with a shove he gets free, pushing Frank away hard enough to smack against the counter, a hurt and confused look on his face.

“Gee-” Frank starts.

“For fuck's sake Iero, what part of no don't you understand?” Gerard snaps back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and tasting blood from the force of the kiss. Sucking his lip, he looks at Frank and tries not to soften at how hurt he looks.

And young. Really, really, young.

“I'm... I don't get it!” Frank shouts back, ducking under the counter hatch and grabbing his bag from the floor, putting a physical barrier between them as though afraid of Gerard – or himself. “You... You kissed me!”

“You kissed me first.”

“You kissed me back!” Frank shakes his head and pulls his sleeves down lower over his hands. “I didn't- If you hadn't I wouldn't of- I thought you...” Hunching down into himself, Frank looks down. “I thought you liked me.”

“I do,” Gerard can barely believe he is saying the words, wanting to jump over the counter and just gather Frank up in his arms but he _can't_ , he mustn't- “Frank, I do, just, I'm not-”

“Not like that,” Frank says defiantly, looking up through his fringe at last, the shops odd lighting casting shadows over his face. “You don't want me.”

“Frankie...”

“It's cool, wouldn't be the first time I got it wrong,” Frank says, forcing a smile on his face. “Didn't mean to make you feel-”

“I know, it's not you-”

“And I'm really sorry I didn't stop-”

“I should have said it earlier-”

“I don't go where I'm not-”

“I didn't mean to lead you on-”

“I'm sorry,” they finally both say at the same time, and Gee pushes his hair back from his face, ducking his head shyly as they finally both laugh, not forced but definitely embarrassed and a little awkward. Sighing, he picks up the abandoned mask on the side and steps up to the counter again, offering it to Frank. Frank takes it back and looks at the pencil marks in the dim light.

“So, what you turning me into?” Frank manages to get out, changing the subject quickly. “Some sort of monster?”

“Goblin, sort of an old school mix between the Green Goblin and mythology, definitely the ears-”

“The ears?” Frank snorts, “you see me with big ears?” He's still flushed from the kiss, his movements awkward and a little too rushed, but he's trying to be normal and he isn't making it harder for Gerard than it already is.

And it's driving Gee crazy. Because suddenly he feels like a complete fraud, a coward against all of Frank's bravery in even making a move and all he can think about is Frank's ears and his hair, and the way the strands felt under his fingers, so smooth and different from his memory of matted hair and long twists that got stuck on his watch strap- 

“Gee?” Frank is staring at him and Gerard just knows he's zoned out for too long and shakes his head.

“Sorry, just-”

“Yeah.” Frank tosses the mask down onto the side and shrugs his bag back onto his shoulder, heading for the door. “Whatever, look, I'm gonna take off-”

“Frankie-”

“No.” Frank turns back and holds his hands up in surrender. “I fucked up, okay, I get it, I misread the signs, just forget it, I'll stay out of your way-”

“I don't want that!” Gee snaps, slamming his hand down on the counter. “For fuck's sake Frankie, just because I can't... _I_ can't, okay? Don't get fucking pissy with me, I'm not gonna cut you off just because-” Frank looks down, his face flushed and suddenly Gee gets it. “Oh, God, you really thought I wouldn't wanna be around you just because-” Gerard laughs, relieved and scared at the same time. “Frankie, I'm not gonna disown you just for making a pass, fuck, Bob didn't even do more than hit me when I drunkenly groped his ass, what did you think was gonna happen-”

“Oh, I dunno,” Frank says sarcastically, “last time I hit on the wrong guy I ended up in hospital, so maybe it's not so paranoid when they really are out to get you, okay!” 

“Oh, _Frank-_ ” Gee says softly, his face falling and all he wants is to hug him and make it better and he can't, but even as he makes an aborted attempt to step closer Frank's face changes, anger flashing again as he backs away further.

“Forget it,” Frank shouts, “look, really, I don't wanna talk about it, I don't wanna analyse my fucking feelings, or get a speech on gay rights or any shit like that, I just want- I like you Gerard, I really like you, you don't like me like that, I get it, just please do me a favour?”

“What?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Storming out, Frank slams the door behind him hard enough to knock several action figures over, a domino trail of destruction flicking back over the shelf until a Boba Fett smacks Gee in the side of the head, his hands flinging up too late to catch it. Sinking back down behind the counter, Gerard looks at the figurine on the floor and sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair until it sticks up above his head. 

“Shit.”

********************************

Mikey isn't sure why everyone is so pissed with him, he just knows it's fucking annoying. 

Gee is acting like he's going through withdrawal, but is so totally caffenated that it definitely isn't that one, and the empty beer cans he heairs him sneaking out to the trash suggests it's really not that either. When a simple good morning gets him the bird, he gives up and puts it down to a hangover and heads off to school.

Of course he then waits for Frank on the walk to school as usual, only to find out after giving up that he'd already gone on ahead. Frank then doesn't turn up for lunch, Nick shrugging and saying Frank didn't say a word all morning, just grabbed his bag and took off as soon as the bell went. 

It isn't until the end of the day, by waiting out of sight on the path to the cemetery, that Mikey manages to catch up with him. Stepping out and walking alongside him, he hears Frank huff and tries not to take it personally. “What's up?”

Frank snorts, his hands buried in his jeans pockets, and keeps walking, staring straight ahead. “Like you don't know.”

“No, I don't know.”

Frank slows a little and glances at him. “You don't know?”

Mikey raises an eyebrow and makes a real effort not to read Frank's mind, something other than telepathy telling him that a) he wouldn't be a very good friend if he didn't let Frank tell him in his own time, and own way occasionally and b) the fact that Frank thinks he will already know suggesting Gee has something to do with it, in which case Mikey isn't sure he even _wants_ to know.

“I don't know.” Frank cheers up a little, relief coming from him in waves, and Mikey gives him a small smile. “If you wanna talk about it-”

“No!” Frank blushes, embarrassed, and Mikey is absolutely certain his brother is involved, somehow. If he's fucked up yet another friendship for no good reason- “No, it's nothing, I just... Had a bad day, woke up on wrong side of bed or something.”

“It happens.” Mikey walks in silence alongside him until they reach the cemetery, hesitating as Frank strides towards the gate. “You free to come work on the house tonight? It's more like watching really, the AV guys are moving in, so you don't need to, but might be fun to watch.”

Frank smiles, relief plain again, but also a hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he blows it out and shakes his head quickly. “Nah, I gotta catch up on some assignments, it's gonna be a busy week next week.”

“We're planning a horror fest this weekend, mutant plants and insects I think, over at Ray's.”

“Sounds good,” Frank grins again, and even without being a mind reader Mikey can tell he's a lot happier than he was. “But uh, I need to check a few things. I'll let you know?”

“Sure.” 

Mikey watches as Frank takes off through the cemetery and just hopes Gee will be as easy to deal with.

************************

Gerard doesn't even want to drink any more. Well, not after an initial bender when he got home from the shop. But he's past it now, past wanting to push the pain away. Instead he picks up his pencils and draws, not Frank this time, no sharp lines but softer edges, a mess of dark hair and a slightly lopsided, drunken smile. It's not the same sort of obsession as before, but an exorcism, driving out an old ghost that's been haunting him for far too long.

The face is young, staring out of the page at him almost accusingly, the black hair long and falling in tails around his shoulders in contrast with the strong jaw and deep cleft in his chin. The graphite doesn't show the colour of the eyes, rendering them grey instead of blue grey, but the intensity is there, the pupils almost blown with a darkness remembered from long nights and late mornings.

The pictures aren't right though, the memory not quite strong enough, the details slipping away the more the image takes shape. The jaw isn't right, or the eyes, or the hair, something fundamentally _not right_ about it. He tries a dozen times, each sketch ending up the same, as a screwed up ball on the floor.

“Fuck!” Ripping the next one off the pad, the cheeks just totally messed up, Gee throws it towards his door-

Bob catches it as he walks in, deftly plucking the ball out of the air even though its arc should have had it hit the floor long before it reached him. Flicking the ball into the air, Bob focuses on it as it unfurls, the image a bit crumpled but recognisable. Tilting his head to the side to look past the page, he stares at Gee, taking in the graphite smudged fingers and unkempt room, complete with more balls of paper.

“Are they all Bert?”

Gerard nods, dropping his gaze to the pencil clutched in his fingers. It had been full length when he started, but now it's little more than a stub, a pile of shavings he doesn't remember making curled in a weird forestlike heap on his desk.

“Is it helping?” Shrugging, Gerard doesn't look at the picture as Bob comes over and sits beside him, Bob taking the picture out of the air and smoothing it with his fingers. “Cheeks aren't right.” Gee stares, surprised Bob would even notice, then spots a sad look on Bob's face.

“You miss him too?”

Nodding, Bob tosses the picture into the air again, concentrating as he uses his thoughts to fold it neatly into squares this time. “We all do.” Taking it back again, he tucks it into his jacket pocket. “Horror fest, my place, this weekend, killer plants and insects. Be there, and whatever's got you and Iero out of shape, fix it or forget it, the kid's fun and I'm not having you scare him off.” Shrugging, he pushes up off the bed. “Hard enough making friends in this town as it is.”

“True,” Gerard nods, pushing the pad to one side and dropping the pencil. His fingers ache at the release of pressure and he rubs them together to ease the muscles. “You ever wanna get out of here?”

“All the time,” Bob admits, “but where'd I go? Mechanics are a dime a dozen really, 'sides, where else would I find a bunch of freaks like us anyway?”

“Nowhere outside of the Discovery Channel or the circus,” Gee says, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“We'd make a hell of a circus act.” Bob heads for the stairs and sounds suddenly very weary. “The amazing Way brothers, the human magnet and the mysterious Madam Toro.”

“It's a thought.”

“It's either that or form a band.”

Snorting, Gee lies back on the bed and stares at the ceiling. “We're never getting out of here, are we?”

“Never say never, you could still go to art school-”

“And pigs might fly.”

“Way,” Bob sighs, “anyone ever tell you you're depressing as fucking Hell when you're like this?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Cheer the fuck up before Saturday.”

 

*****************************************

Gerard manages to cheer up and Saturday is fun, the movies a mixture of scary and hilarious, the effects requiring a pretty huge suspension of disbelief (but no more than classic Doctor Who or Star Trek), the heroes formulaic and the damsels distressed. 

So what if Frank and Gerard choose to sit on opposite sides of the room, the others arranged like chaperones between them. So what if Frank makes sure he is never alone with Gee, even when just grabbing a drink or more chips from the kitchen. So what if Mikey is wincing at the light, his head pounding with the tension between them, and Ray and Bob end up taking it in turns to discreetly rub his shoulders, letting their own thoughts block the others out and give Mikey a break.

It's still fun, it's still normal, and by the end of the evening they've all relaxed a little, laughing and joking as before and setting out the last minute timetable for the Haunted House. With just a couple of days to go, there's not much left to do beside practice and costumes, Frank and Mikey arranging for Mikey to bring some of the guys' old goblin costume pieces from previous years into school for him to try on. 

By the time they drop Frank home again, Mikey's headache is fading, even if Frank did call shotgun to avoid sitting in the back with them. Most of the awkwardness is gone, but there is still a slightly too friendly, too polite air between Frank and Gee. Mikey can feel it shrinking though and in all fairness, it's not much worse than the time Bob got drunk and accidentally _felt_ up Ray whilst trying to levitate his beer cup from his lap. Those two had been weird for weeks after that.

Mikey would never dream of asking Bob or Ray what it had felt like, his curiosity at the potential of telekinetic sex and what it actually felt like outweighed by the risk of being thumped, noogied, or just plain getting his ass kicked.

Of course, being a telepath, he hadn't been curious for long – and just like the cat, he wishes he'd never looked.

Lesson learned, Mikey stays well out of Frank's head for the rest of that weekend, and the school days that followed

*********************************

“Good morning sweetheart, happy birthday!” 

Frank rolls over sleepily, wiping his eyes to try and focus on his mum. He can make out a cup of coffee in one hand, cards in the other.

Grinning, Frank sits up and grabs the coffee as though he's dying of thirst, sipping it even though his tongue complains at the burn. Wriggling back into the pillows, he finally puts the mug down and reaches for his cards.

“Thanks mom!”

“Don't thank me yet, you haven't opened them,” she says, settling down onto the bed beside him and watching him closely.

Forewarned, Frank sorts through the cards, opening the thicker ones from family first and tucking the cheques and notes safely on his bedside table amongst the empty glasses and wrappers. He spots Gabe's scrawl early on and puts the blue envelope to one side; even in the unlikely event that the cover of the card is safe for parents Frank knows there is no way in Hell the contents will be. His mom is still watching him closely but doesn't mention it, just a small smirk giving her away. 

Onto that pile goes another card with Pete's weirdly neat script, but the plain brown envelope surprises him, Frank almost dismissing it as junk mail until he spots the Charlie's Comics stamp on the back. Gerard. Ripping it open he expects to see a new X-Men or Spiderman comic, but instead a simple paper book slips out. 

“New comic?”

Frank can't speak, just staring at the cover. It's him. It's not close enough to be immediately obvious, the face half turned away in the night, the stars shining behind it, but he can tell. If that wasn't enough, he just knows the other figure standing in a doorway is Gerard, Mikey crouched down beside him. It's them.

“Frankie?” Forcing his attention back to his mom, he hastily (but carefully) shoves the comic to one side and reaches for more cards, hoping she won't look too closely at it. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just distracted. More presents!”

Laughing, she watches as he rips into more presents, a small pile of gifts and money building up beside him until the bed is covered in paper. Finally he waits as his mom gathers up the trash, sipping at his coffee and watching with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?”

“Well what sweetie?”

“Where is it?”

“Your breakfast is downstairs if that's what you mean...”

Frank watches as she walks away and groans, throwing himself back under the covers. He's torn between the urge to insist that, as it's his birthday, he should be allowed to just stay in bed and skip school, and the urge to get up and check out the rest of his presents and try and use it as a way to get everyone to buy him fries for lunch.

Eventually presents win out – not to mention that if he skips school he will find it harder to slip out to the Haunted House tonight – and he forces himself out of the bed, shuffling across the room in his t-shirt and boxers before shrugging into some sweatpants and heading downstairs. The smell of pancakes is heavy in the air and he finishes the last of the coffee before swinging his way into his kitchen chair.

Glancing out the window as he reaches for his pancakes, Frank blinks at the sight of figures drifting along the path at the top of the cemetery, indistinct in the distance. Either someone is having a fucking early funeral or trick or treat starts early in this town. Small towns.

“You okay?” Nodding, he tucks in, frowning as she continues to study him. “You sure?”

“Really sure.” Eating quickly, he grins as a small wrapped cube is slid onto the table in front of him. “Not a DVD then?”

Rolling her eyes, his mom sits down opposite him and wraps her fingers around her own mug as she watches him rip the paper open. The box is black leather, cracked with age, and bearing the worn out embossed name of a family owned jewellers he doesn't recognise, although from the font and box Frank suspects it's older than he is. Instead of a spring hinge that pops open, he has to flick a small catch at the front to open the lid, the box protesting slightly and creaking as it opens.

“Mom...”

“I'm sorry it's second hand, I know you'd probably prefer some digital thing-”

“It's great!” Frank lifts the watch out and grins. It's chunky, the thick black leather strap shiny and new, a wide aviator style complete with small cover to protect the watch face and it shouldn't go with the delicate silver timepiece but somehow does. The watch itself is delicate, a slightly off colour silver, and a little scratched around the edges but the quality of the work shines through nonetheless and marks it as something out of the ordinary.

The watch is simply numbered, thin silver arms sweeping gracefully around the circle of the watch, but under the arms there are a couple of extra dials and the edge has an extra button that he can't resist playing with. 

“Stopwatch, cool!”

“And the other dial at the top, with the circles, that's the phases of the moon, and you can set another timezone on that one...”

“Awesome!”

“It was your grandfather's,” she explains, smiling fondly, “I had them update the strap though, the old one was a bracelet and I figure young men don't tend to do silver jewellery any more-”

“Mom, you are the best! I love it!” Slipping the watch on and feeling the reassuring weight of it on his wrist, Frank grins and jumps up from the table, hugging his mom tight and feeling her hug him back. She's hugging him like she used to do when he was sick, as though trying to check his blood pressure and temperature and magically detect colds, flu, cooties and germs just by her arms alone. It takes him an effort to escape her embrace and she's still watching him closely, as though searching him for signs of sickness, for so long he starts to get self conscious.

“Mom, you okay?”

Nodding quickly, she ruffles his hair but still stares, considering. “I'm just... You're growing up and soon you won't need your old mom.”

Grinning, Frank tries to force his face into an expression of aloofness, failing to hide the smile or the mischief in his eyes as he puts on his best posh accent, which comes out oddly British. “Why yes my good woman, one does feel splendidly mature now, mature enough to take control of your motorised carriage-”

“You're not borrowing the car!” Laughing, she cuffs him round the head and pushes him back towards his breakfast. “Eat up, unless you're trying to tell me you've also stopped growing now.”

“Better fucking not have,” Frank mutters, dropping back into his chair and finishing his food, his eyes watching the way the watch twists with his arm. 

“You know, it _is_ your birthday, it seems a shame to waste the day at school...”

Frank is sure he's fallen asleep at the table, or hasn't even woken up yet. A handmade comic book, a cool watch that's actually like an heirloom, and his mom talking about skipping classes. It's gotta be a dream, any minute now he's going to wake up and find out he's actually back in New York, Pete and Gabe are gone and he's facing another year in Homophobe High.

“Mom?” She's watching him again and now he's starting to feel weird. “You okay?”

She quickly turns away, nodding again in that way that sends a shiver up his spine. He's seen that look before; every time she visited the school counsellor about his 'acting out' or 'non conformity', every time she and his dad fought, every time her boss had to cut her hours for some bullshit excuse and they were going to have to survive on soup and chickpea curry for a week or two, every time the doctor had a quick word with her outside his hospital room. It's her 'everything's fine' look.

Digging into his food, he tries to ignore it, to act casual, but can't help asking. “Did Dad call?”

Her sigh is barely audible, a soft huff of frustration, but then her hand is on his head, ruffling his hair again as she passes. “I'm sure he'll call tonight, probably didn't want to wake you too early, it is your birthday after all.”

“Yeah, listen, about tonight-”

“I'm making your favourite risotto, so don't fill up on rubbish on your way home, and I know it's Halloween but try to stay out of the apple bobbing and candy crap, you never know what's in it!”

Swallowing down his half dared mention of the Haunted House, Frank thinks of the bag upstairs with his costume tucked away in it, and the mask that Mikey promises Gee has been working on all week and will be waiting for him at the house. A twinge of guilt drags his stomach into a knot, but he ignores it. His mom will be asleep by 11 anyway, maybe earlier as she likes to avoid the trick and treaters, he can slip out and still see the last of Halloween this year.

“And if you don't want to go to school today, I don't mind, really...”

Frank chokes on his pancakes and laughs, shaking his head quickly. “It's cool, honest, 'sides, this year I might actually get a present or two from the guys.”

“You mean other than what Pete and Gabe gave you last year?”

Frank's blushing, he can feel it, his face on fire as he tries desperately not to remember exactly what they DID give him last year, and quickly stuffs the rest of his breakfast in his mouth to avoid answering.

“Well, if you're sure, have a good day sweetie, but if you don't feel well or... or if you want to, you come straight home, okay? Or call me, I'll come pick you up.”

Frank doesn't know what's going on, if his mum is just feeling maudlin or what, but it's starting to creep him out, like he's dying of cancer or some shit and she hasn't told him. Either that or she really does know what he got up to for his sixteenth...

Getting up quickly he dumps his plate in the sink and gives her a syrupy kiss on the cheek, ducking out from another hair ruffling and makes his excuses and dashes up to the shower, his cheeks still red. Throwing himself under the water he tries to push away the thought of last year, and the cards from the guys on his bed still, but a lingering memory triggers a longing in him. Jerking off efficiently, he tries to focus on the memory but the image changes and as he comes it's Gerard's face he can see, Gee's lips he can feel on his, and instead of relief his frustration rises.

“Never gonna happen,” Frank mutters to himself as he dries off and tries not to get his hopes up for a birthday hug from Gee, let alone anything more. Then he remembers the comic and grins. That has to at least mean he's forgiven, right? Happier again, Frank finishes drying off and gets ready for school, humming Happy Birthday to himself as he goes.

*******************************

Mikey and Brendon are waiting for Frank at the school gates, tackling him as he arrives and bundling him off to the back of the band room where the others are waiting. Ambushed, he fights back the moment's panic, trying to shake off the memory of being dragged across playing fields with mud gouging at his sneakers and rain soaking through to his skin. 

But the weak autumn sun is warm through his dark jacket, and the ground hard enough to walk on easily, even when they cross the grass, an early frost crackling with every step. The laughing is not directed at him, but rather with him, the jibes good natured and making him laugh too, and the hands are guiding him, not forcing. Nick is waiting with a couple of carrier bag wrapped lumps, tossing one to Brendon, whilst Mikey pulls a more elegantly wrapped parcel from his bag.

It's crazy, the gang of them lurking outside the back of the band hut, sharing one of Nick's cigarettes whilst Frank rips through an inside out Wal-Mart bag covered in enough tape to make it almost impervious. The presents are bland; a couple of mix and bootleg CDs 'to widen your fucking godawful taste, Iero' as Nick puts it, a DVD, and a Boba Fett figure which, though neither he or Mikey know it, is the one that bashed Gee on the head after their fight. 

It doesn't matter though, to Frank they are amazing by their very existence. He's only been in the town a couple of months but already he has not only friends but friends who bother to make some sort of effort for his birthday, even if they are mostly the presents they would get themselves rather than his taste. And wrapped really shittily, as though sellotape alone will somehow turn plastic into wrapping paper and ribbon.

Grinning like a loon, he gathers all his presents into his bag and steals the last few drags of the cigarette for himself, flicking away the stub as the bell rings. As he follows the others into the building, he is surprised at a smile from an interesting looking girl hanging round the gym. Her hair is huge, stiffly curled around her head and her dress is very sixties, but her smile is engaging and he can't help grinning back. He's already seen a few 'pilgrims' in the town, and a few early sets of vampire fangs in the school grounds, and shakes his head. This town takes Halloween way too seriously, but it's contagious and kindof fun.

And it's his birthday. It's gonna be fucking awesome.

*******************************************

Frank runs home from school, his bag slapping against his hip as he dodges past pumpkins and broomsticks, the elementary kids already well into their trick or treating. His house stands out amongst the others, no decorations, no witches faces at the windows or bats on the porch, but for once he doesn't care. All he has to do is get through a couple of hours with his mom then slip out, give Bob a call and he will have the best Halloween ever.

“Mom, I'm home!” Skidding into the hallway, he grins at the smells from the kitchen, his favourite risotto guiding him in. “Happy birthday to me, happy birthday-” The kitchen door is open, letting him see in to the table beyond and his mother stirring dinner whilst at the table a man is sitting, a gaudily wrapped present resting in front of him.

“Happy Birthday Frank.”

“Dad!” His bag drops to the floor unnoticed as he leaps forward, wrapping himself around his father's neck like a monkey or a kid half his size. “What are you doing here?”

“How could I miss my boy's seventeenth?”

“Why not, you missed sixteen, fifteen-”

“Mom-”

“Sorry,” she holds her hands up and nods to her former husband as Frank pulls away. “It's nice that you were able to come.”

“You're staying?”

“I saw a motel out on the highway, I was gonna take you out for dinner but who could resist a bowl of rice...”

“Motel? You can stay here!” Frank catches the moment of horror on his Mom's face, quickly smothered by a polite smile, and he hesitates. “I mean, we only have the couch, or you can take my bed-”

“You've got school tomorrow-”

“Mom, one night won't kill me-”

“The couch is fine, really,” his dad says quickly, “growing boy, you need your sleep.”

“He needs more than sleep, and he gets it, no thanks to you-”

Ignoring them both, Frank ducks past his mother to dip his finger into the risotto, almost burning himself but worth it as he sucks the sauce off it, the taste familiar and comforting. The low murmur of muttered fighting behind him is all too familiar too and he tries to block it out. “Fuck yeah, that's good,” Frank says with gusto, turning round and giving his dad a shit eating grin to shut him up. 

“Just needs some proper meat in it and it'd be awesome-”

Pulling a face, Frank shudders and pushes past his dad to the present on the table, ignoring the jab at his vegetarianism. “So, whatcha got me?”

“Open it and see.” Ripping into the paper, Frank lets the box tumble onto the table and raises his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Oh. Wow, Dad, that's-” The box set is of loads of old B-Movie classics, a mess of pictures on the box including screaming women, green aliens, a huge robot and bare chested heroes armed with ray guns. 

“You said in your last e-mail that your friends were into that sort of thing, I figured this might help.”

Grinning, Frank turns and hugs his dad, holding on tight and breathing in his scent. It's weird, even after spending so much time living apart from him, the smell of his dad's sweater is still enough to bring back memories of curling up on the couch with football on the TV or his parent's LPs on the record player. He misses it.

“Thanks dad. Looks great!”

“No worries Frankie, seventeen's a big birthday.” Snorting into his dad's chest, Frank grins and looks up.

“Only if you're a wizard,” he jokes, his dad grinning, but they freeze at the sound of a breaking plate. Pushing back, Frank turns and his smile fades as he sees the look on his mom's face and the shattered crockery on the floor. “Mom, you okay?”

“What the Hell did you mean by that?”

“Mom-”

“It's just a joke, Linda, it's a Harry Potter thing-”

“Harry Potter.” Grabbing the brush from under the sink, she almost slams it against the floor as she sweeps up the shards. “What have I told you about that stuff-”

“You're still doing this? Linda, he's seventeen-”

“Frank, go wash up for dinner. Now.”

“Mom-”

“Now, Frank.”

Throwing his dad a look of exasperation, Frank grabs the boxes from the table and stomps upstairs, slamming his bedroom door and flopping down onto the bed. He can hear the rumble of their voices through the floor and grabs his headphones, jamming them over his ears and turning the volume up loud as he grabs his other cards and presents from this morning. 

The comic is still there, under his pillow where he left it, and he can feel his mood improving as he opens the pages and sees the drawings inside. Gee can really draw, he always knew that, but the story is cool too, even more so with the familiar faces in it. The detail is fab, small bits of the town or their real lives slipping through into the story; Frank's favourite gloves, the doodles on Mikey's bags that Gee did for him, even Bob's lip ring. 

By the last page he has a smile on his face again, which widens when the small note falls out from between the pages. Gee's handwriting is clear for once, and the note is only short but Frank rereads it over and over.

_Happy Birthday Frank, hope you have a great day. I didn't know what to get you but hope you like this. Hopefully see you in person tonight, your mask is in Bob's car if you can get away. If not, we'll give you a personal scare session later!_

Tucking the note under his pillow, Frank lies back and slips off his headphones, the house quiet at last. Risking it, he slides off the bed again and pads over to his door, listening out. He can hear the creak of footsteps on the stairs and opens his door to see his dad.

“Hey, Frankie, your mom says to come down for dinner.”

“What did she actually say?”

Smiling wryly, his dad scratches his fingers along the back of his skull. “Many things, some of which I even deserved, and that I may as well make myself useful and bring you down.”

“Didn't mean to get you in trouble.” Rolling his eyes, Frank steps back into his room to turn his music off and his dad follows him in, looking round curiously as though cataloguing the changes from his old room. 

“Don't worry about it, your mom, she has... issues.”

“Yeah, no horror stories about my birth tonight, okay? Not like I had any say in the matter and yet every time since I was a kid I so much as caught a minute of Sabrina the Teenage Witch whilst changing channels I get it in the neck.”

“I know, she just gets stressed this time of year. Nobody ever said phobias were logical.”

“Whatever.” Slipping the more private presents back into his school bag, Frank stands up again and catches his dad watching him oddly. “What?”

“Nothing, you just... You've grown so much. It's only been a few months, but still...” Taking a deep breath, his dad claps his hands together. “So, you feel any different now you're practically a grown up?”

Snorting, Frank shakes his head. “Should I?”

“No, no.” Wrapping an arm over his son's shoulders, his dad guides him back towards the door. “Nothing you want to fill me in on? No new girlfriends? Or, er, boyfriends?”

Closing his eyes and ducking his head, Frank groans. 21st century parents, totally accepting and all that, are wonderful, he is not gonna argue that point, but it doesn't make it any less embarrassing when they ask about your love life...

*****************************

The Haunted House is already open and getting visitors before school is even out, Gee, Bob and Ray set up early on and keep it going with the 'tamer' setting for the younger kids and bored housewives. And husbands – although the way a couple of them keep hanging around Gee's face painting table and trying to chat to him makes him suspect they have heard the rumours about him and are a little curious. The autumn sunlight peeks through the edges of the blackout curtains and the tiny holes where the stitches aren't quite perfect, sending tiny lines of dust through the darkness and over the kids' faces.

Ray is in full costume as 'Madam Toro', his crystal ball and veil catching the light and the floaty purple layers doing little to disguise his bulk. The line at his table is steady, people laughing at his ghostly voice and bizarre predictions, although Gee has been doing this long enough to hear the odd element of truth in the gibberish. It's part of what makes him so popular and keeps people coming back each year.

As soon as school finishes, Bob leaves his demon mask and blood red cape and takes off, driving back into town to grab Mikey and bring him out to the house. It takes Gee a couple of minutes to do his face paint, Mikey's glasses making masks out of the question, the brush gliding over his skin and catching a little on the mix of five o'clock shadow and peach fuzz on his chin. Make up in place, Mikey dashes in to take his place as the cars of high schoolers start trickling in, groups crammed in around the designated drivers and loaded down with candy and beer for their parties later.

Gerard watches the waves come and go as always, the same old patterns repeating themselves, the young kids giving way to older kids, giving way to the teenagers. The teenagers come in their own waves, some coming straight from school, letterman shirts and trendy clothes and school bags dumped in the cars, hitting the house as a warm up to get them in the mood for the evening. Later, the first of the costumes appear, sexy witches, sexy vampires, sexy cats... Most of the guys go for the bare minimum look of some fake blood splashed on a shirt, a plastic cape and some fangs. They are Gee's bread and butter, the guys pestered into paying to get their face painted properly by Gerard.

And if a few of them insist on keeping their girlfriends within groping distance the whole time, in case he tries to infect them with the ghey, he doesn't care, just charges them double and makes sure to emphasis every pimple, pockmark and shadow he can find on their faces.

As he paints and watches the sun go down, he can't stop his thoughts from turning to Frank, wondering if he has had a good day, if he is having dinner with his Mom, if he got something good from his dad. But most of all, Gee wonders if Frank will be able to sneak out at all, to have a chance to come and enjoy the fruits of his work, to have some fun.

And maybe tonight, under the camouflage of his undead persona, Gee hopes he might finally work up the courage to actually make things right, to explain about being scared, about being a dick, about Bert, and maybe make up for pushing him away...

When the light fades too much to work any more, he packs up his paints and heads into the house, getting in place for the final wave of the evening, the kids who have had time to get dressed up and tanked up. They are rowdier, but at the same time easier to scare – or at least startle – and the most up for some fun, beyond caring about looking stupid. Ray continues predicting until his queue drifts away and it is time to cast off his fortune teller's look and put on his own disguise, courtesy of Gee's paints and torchlight.

As Gerard finishes adding the last of his horrific zombie injuries, Ray opens his eyes and looks at him oddly, then smiles. “He's going to come you know.”

Smiling tightly back, Gerard dabs on the last of the gash along Ray's neck, enhancing the added bruises. “Did you see it?”

“No, but I've gotten to know the kid. And he is going to come, any way he can, even if he has to run away from home and be grounded forever for it.”

Sitting back, Gee puts his brushes away and tries not to grin, but the urge fades away as he remembers how stilted Frank has been with him since they kissed and wonders if he really will come at all. 

“Hey, you okay?”

Nodding quickly, Gee closes up his make up kit and hands it to Ray to stash in his car. “Just fine.”

“Yeah, right,” Ray laughs and shifts the box in his arms. “Get on with the scare, Way, you'll feel better once you've made some big strong jocks wet their pants.”

“Amen to that.”

**********************************

By the time Frank has made it downstairs again his Mom seems to have calmed down, serving up the dinner with good grace and contenting herself with just throwing a few evil looks at her former husband as he makes a face at the risotto. Frank's just happy she doesn't throw the risotto at him.

They are on their best behaviour for once, and Frank takes full advantage, filling his dad in on what's been happening, how he's settling in, and reassuring them both that, actually, he's fine. Which would be easier if his mom wasn't still giving him odd looks, and in return his dad was staring at her like she was the one about to peel her face off and turn into an alien.

As the night gets darker the sounds of the trick or treaters get louder outside, laughs and shouts echoing around the neighbourhood, and Frank tries not to let it get to him as his Mom tenses up. It's always like this, the very hint of Halloween fun making her stress out, and he's getting fed up of it.

Especially as all he can think of is the Haunted House waiting for him.

But there's dessert and his dad bought him sweets, allegedly for the trick or treaters but, as they all know way too well, short of putting up a giant sign saying piss off, their house makes it pretty obvious they aren't giving out candy anytime soon so nobody knocks. So Frank and his dad end up on the couch stuffing themselves stupid whilst his mom keeps the TV up too loud to block out the noises, her eyes darting between Frank and the windows rather than the show.

After a shriek outside makes her jump, Frank's dad sighs loudly and shakes his head. “For goodness sake woman, just take a pill and go to bed or something if it bothers you that much!”

“Helpful, thanks.”

“Just offering some helpful advice, dear.”

“Dear? You don't get to dear me-”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Oh don't you dare try to blame me, you know full well the pressure I was under, when Frank was born-”

“Frank,” his dad says quickly, pulling his arm back from around Frank's shoulders to point at her, “is not to blame for you being impossible to live with!”

“Well he manages it just fine-”

“Y'know what,” Frank says quickly, slipping to his feet and putting the bowl of sweets on the floor, “I think I ate too much, I'm gonna go lie down and read or something.”

“You okay Frank?” His mom's attitude changes instantly and he steps back as she suddenly jumps up, looking at him in the way that makes him want to strip naked and shove a thermometer up his ass just so he can pull it out again and go 'there, see, normal!' for her. (Actually, he nearly did that in the hospital when they were debating whether to discharge him, but the nurses were too quick for him so all he really ended up managing was to moon them.) Rolling his eyes, he nods.

“I'm fine, I just had too much junk, I just... I'm tired, okay? I'm gonna get an early night.”

She actually puts her hand on his forehead to check his temperature and he has to seriously fight the urge to slap her away. Instead he forces himself to just smile and press into it. 

“I'm fine.”

“You heard the boy, he's fine, stop fussing.”

“I can fuss if I want to, you're not the one who will have to handle it if he gets sick again.” Letting go of his head, she pulls him into a hug and, sharing an exasperated look with his dad over her shoulder, Frank hugs her back. “Happy Birthday sweetheart.”

“Thanks mom.” Pulling back, he swoops down for one quick hug with his dad too. “You gonna be here in the morning?”

“Course son. You sleep tight.”

“Night!”

It takes all his willpower to force himself to just walk up the stairs instead of running but as soon as he reaches his room his phone is out and dialling Bob's number with a well practised thumb. Digging under his bed for the bag with his costume in, Frank starts kicking off his clothes and rearranging his bed to get the pillows and dirty laundry to make a roughly Frank shaped lump.

“Bob? Assembling time. See you in twenty.”

*************************************

He should feel guilty about slipping out, especially after his dad drove down to see him, but the stomach ache excuse seems to have worked and besides, his folks seem quite happy to carry on arguing without him there. The sound of their voices drifts through the open kitchen window, the odd word escaping up through to his bedroom. 

They get louder as he opens his window wide, assessing the drop and the trees outside, working out the best way to go. Tossing his bag down ahead of him, he aims for the bushes and the rustle sounds incredibly loud but nothing compared to the heated argument in the house, the occasional snatch of recognisable sentences accompanying his shifting.

“...next to a cemetery for goodness sake...”

“-no I'm making sure! If he does-”

“Just stop it, enough now, he's seventeen, he's fine-”

Rolling his eyes, Frank swings his legs out the window. They've picked up on their favourite topic of fighting again; Him. Most of the fights he heard as a kid were about him, and blaming himself for their break up had been a fun part of his childhood. Now he just wishes they'd got it over with faster as it is so much easier dealing with them as separate parts of his life.

It only takes Frank a few minutes to sneak out of the house in the end, his converse squeaking against the dew damp wood on the back porch as he drops from the tree, but not enough to be heard inside the house. Not that they would hear him anyway; he can still make out the faint edges of their argument, his dad shouting about Harry Potter and mollycoddling and zombies for some reason. 

Shrugging his bag higher on his shoulder, Frank takes off across the grass, the sound of his footsteps covering the lingering voices. It's only a quick hop to get into the cemetery grounds, the shortcut well known to him now, but tonight the cemetery feels more alive than usual, giggles and soft shrieks drifting across the headstones. For a second it's creepy; after he literally trips over a couple making out amongst the graves, it's just funny. 

He has to admit, the grounds are creepy and quite appropriate for a Halloween date, but the night is cold, the air starting to thicken with the cold dew that will soon be frost. The Haunted House will be in full swing by now, the walls keeping out the worst of the cold and the lights and fear chasing away the rest of it. It won't take long to get there, and as he thumbs out another text to Bob he picks up the pace to cut across to the other side where they will meet.

“Boo!”

The shout is unexpected, the figure looming up from behind a grave gruesome and something out of a nightmare and Frank can't help it, he fucking screams and jumps-

And promptly falls over onto his ass, much to his ghoul's amusement.

“Oh man,” the figure laughs, bending double with it, his long hair matted with fake blood and his dark clothes shredded to rags like some sort of zombie costume, but with more blood and less grey. “You are such a pussy! I got a girl earlier and she barely even blinked!”

Frank glares up at him, brushing himself down and picking his bag up from behind him. “Good for her.”

The ghoul looks at him oddly, then smiles, the sight somehow even more terrifying. “I've seen you around here before, you sneak cigarettes over near Bessie's place-”

“Bessie,” Frank says, confused, then his face clears. “You mean her grave?”

“Yeah,” the ghoul grins, his teeth yellowing but Frank suspects it's more from nicotine and not brushing than make-up. “Nice spot, gets the afternoon sun, but shaded by the trees, top of a slight slope so not too damp, jealous of it really.”

“Jealous of a grave?” Frank clambers to his feet, his jeans damp from the grass, still glaring at the stranger and his incessant cheeriness, and looks him up and down. His clothes are trashed, his hair looks almost as though he hasn't washed it for an entire week, and Frank gets a slight hint of alcohol on the breeze, not fresh but the sour sweat of it. It reminds him of the time Pete was so trashed Gabe bet him they could get drunk just by licking him.

Of course, Gabe had then raised the bet to other bodily fluids...

“You homeless or something? Checking out the best spots in the cemetery?”

Snorting, the ghoul shakes his matted hair and sniffs, scratching at his stubbly chin with a dirty, bitten fingernail. “Hardly, just hang out here a lot lately. Quiet, peaceful, y'know?”

“Yeah,” Frank agrees, looking over his shoulder across the gravestones towards his house. The light is still on in the kitchen but nowhere else. “I know.”

“Where you sneaking off to?”

Swearing, Frank checks his watch and looks over to the car park. No headlights yet. “Haunted House. Mate's picking me up.”

“The Way brother's thing?” The ghoul looks thoughtful, staring at Frank oddly.

“Yeah, you know them? I've been helping them set up the place.”

“Oh I know them.” The ghoul backs away a step, leaning against a gravestone, his humour gone and his tone darkly serious all of a sudden. “What's your name?”

“Frank. Frank Iero.”

“Listen Frank, Frank Iero, just... be careful around them.” Leaning back on the stone, he openly leers at Frank. “You're a pretty little thing, wouldn't want to see you get hurt.”

“It's fine, I'll use a safety word,” Frank snaps back angrily, suddenly aware that he's alone, in a graveyard, with a drunken weirdo who likes jumping out at people in the dark. A shiver runs through him and he tries to resist the urge to slap himself in the face to remind himself that not every bullying homophobic asshole in the world wears a letterman jacket.

“You do that sweetie, just watch your back, Gee-”

Frank spots the curving flash of Bob's headlights and dashes forward, rushing past the guy at a quick pace, not running, no, he's not running away, he's just leaving. Quickly. In the direction of a much bigger friend who he knows will protect him.

“Yeah,” Frank calls back, “whatever.”

“See you around Iero!”

“Not if I see you first.”

As soon as his sneakers hit the gravel of the car park, he feels a little better and by the time he is safely in the passenger seat, he doesn't care any more. If some drunk prick wants to waste Halloween hanging out in a damp graveyard that's his loss. Frank has a Haunted House to go to and his first proper Halloween ever to enjoy.

****************************************

It is beyond awesome.

Frank has never seen anything quite so crazy. The house is dark, flashes of light sending images of ghosts and ghouls and vampires through his brain like a strobing camera. There are girls and guys in make-up and costume, some ultra modern plastic costumes and masks, others more vintage style or old school, screams and shouts and the throb of the music, and the feel of the rope from the trap door in his hands. It's a rush, setting off the traps and jumping out from his hidey hole, making people freak out, and he starts to understand why the creep in the cemetery was having so much fun. 

The house starts to quieten down around one, and Frank drifts down to where Gee is working, running the lights and sound board, Brendon the band geek sitting behind him with a goofy grin on his face. Gee is, of course, oblivious, with no idea of how cute he looks, even with his make-up starting to smear where he can't stop touching his face and his hair sticking up on one side. Or maybe because of it.

Frank takes over Brendon's seat when his ride arrives, a knowing look from the kid making Frank want to swat him round the head as he leaves. Instead he settles for pulling himself up onto the ledge behind Gee, grateful for the mask hiding the way he can't stop looking at him.

As the last guests leave, Mikey comes in from the door, Ray from his spot in the attic and Bob sweeps the house, locking up as he goes, making sure everything is secure. Everyone is yawning but smiling too, tired but happy. He hasn't had a chance to talk to anyone since he arrived, the place too noisy, but as the freaky music switches off at last, Frank flips his mask off and stretches, yawning widely as his ears feel like they want to pop from the quiet.

“We done?” Gee asks softly, glancing up at Bob who nods, then leans back on his stool, his back resting against Frank's legs. Frank stiffens, unsure if he should move, if this is too close, but Gee looks exhausted and instead Frank just brushes a tentative hand over Gee's hair. At the smile he receives, he grins and turns it into a playful swat instead.

“So, this is Halloween then?”

Laughing, Gerard nods up at him and spreads his hands wide encompassing the house, their make-up and costumes, and the general chaos of the evening. “Yep. Month to prepare for, one night of fun. Bit like Christmas.”

“Christmas has presents,” Ray points out, shaking his head and letting his hair bounce out again from under his mask, a strap line going round his skull. “Halloween is work.”

“And good causes,” Gerard points out, nodding to Mikey who is guarding the money tin. “Felt like we must've beat last years record, should help with the funding for the hall right?”

Mikey nods, collapsing down onto the floor and blowing out a long breath. “Can't believe I have school tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Frank agrees, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. At the sight, Gee reaches back to pat his shoulder gently.

“We should get home, clean-up will wait.” Pushing off of Frank's legs, Gerard starts grabbing the few essentials he needs from the desk even as the others do the same, finding their bags and the few valuable bits that might be vulnerable overnight. Frank only has his bag, so stays with Gee to help with the CDs and tech he is juggling. The others head out to Ray's car and Frank passes his bag to Mikey so he can help Gee bring the larger boxes out.

The last load is waiting when he comes back in, but as he reaches for it he feels a twinge in his back and stretches instead, raising his hands up to the ceiling and feeling the cool night air slip under the hem of his t-shirt, his hips exposed. 

“You okay?”

The sound makes him jump, even though he knows Gee was right behind him. Nodding, Frank pulls his shirt down again self consciously, ignoring the way Gerard is looking at him. “Just stretching. Better get these boxes out-”

Gerard's hand on his back makes him freeze and he tries not to sigh at the warmth of the touch, rubbing gently right where he's sore. It's like magic, the pain easing, and he smiles in spite of himself. 

“Better?”

“Fuck yeah,” Frank breathes, then quickly straightens up and steps forward. “Thanks.”

“Frank-”

“Thanks for letting me come tonight and help out with it all,” Frank says quickly, putting the last few boxes between him and Gee. “It's been cool.”

“You kidding me, you were great! I swear, I've never seen the place so good, you've been amazing.”

“Was pretty busy,” Frank grins, nodding. “This town really goes all out huh, never seen so many costumes, loved the retro ones too.”

Gee looks confused for a moment then shrugs. “I didn't see too many people, kinda dark in my corner, but yeah, we take Halloween seriously here. Second only to Salem itself.”

Chuckling, Frank shifts the box and is about to pick it up when he stops. “By the way, I meant to say, cheers for the comic. You didn't have to-”

“Oh, no problem!”

“-it must've taken you ages.”

“Actually once I had the idea it just flowed.”

“Anyway, it's...” Frank takes a deep breath and wishes he was still hiding behind his mask. “I love it. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Smiling back oddly, Gee steps closer, the box between them keeping them apart. “Happy Birthday Frankie.”

**************************************************

Frank can feel the yawn starting to build inside him as he drags his feet up the porch steps. The house is dark, his mom's light out and not even the soft glow of her TV on. She is always asleep by now, pretty deep asleep at that, and he hasn't had any desperate missed calls or angry texts so figures he got away with it. 

Opening the back door, he toes his sneakers off and lets his socked feet hit the cool tile, picking the shoes up and tucking them in his bag to reduce the noise of his footsteps. The lock sticks a little, but he lifts the handle to get it to catch properly and the house is secure again. Listening out for any signs of life, he sneaks across the kitchen, heading out into the hallway and past the open living room door-

“Did you have a good night?”

The whisper is soft, pitched deliberately low, and Frank would normally jump but after tonight, between the fucking ghoul in the cemetery, the house itself, and Bob's driving, he just doesn't have any scare left in him. Instead, he turns and sheepishly pads into the living room where his dad is sprawled on the couch.

“Guess I should've let you go with the motel idea more, huh?”

“That was your first mistake.” Stifling a yawn, his dad waves him in. “Pillows under the covers was your second. You're lucky your mom let me check on you and say goodnight instead of her going in or you'd be grounded until your eighteenth.”

Wincing, Frank drops down onto the arm of the couch. “Did you tell her?”

“What am I, an idiot?” Ruffling Frank's hair, his dad shrugs. “So, did you have fun?”

Nodding, Frank grins down at him. “Hell yeah, my friends run this haunted house, I helped out for a bit,” digging into his bag, he grabs his mask and slips it back on again, turning his head left and right so his dad can see, “I'm a goblin, cool huh? Gee made it for me.”

His dad is grinning, but has a slightly bemused look on his face. “You went out to go to a Haunted House?”

“Yeah, it was so cool!” Slipping the mask off again, he frowns. “Why, what did you think I was doing?”

Laughing softly, his dad shakes his head quickly. “Oh no, I'm not giving you ideas, I was just thinking your granddad would've loved if I'd been as respectable at seventeen as you are.”

“Depends how you define respectable,” Frank says darkly, then smiles again. “So I'm not in trouble?”

“Not yet, but make sure you air that jacket properly, I can smell your cigarettes.”

“I, I don't smoke, with my lungs-”

“Whatever Frankie, just promise me you'll cut down.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Frank agrees reluctantly. 

“You can have the deal my dad made with me; you can smoke, but only at times of very great stress, or after sex.”

“Granddad smoked like twenty a day!”

“And he was never stressed, was he?”

“Ewww,” pushing off the couch, Frank shakes his head quickly, covering his ears. “Gross.”

“Go to bed Frankie, you've got school tomorrow.”

“With that in my head, I'll be lucky not to get nightmares.”

“Haunted House, no problem, his grandparents having sex, _that_ terrifies him, wait until he tries parenthood,” his dad mutters, shifting the blanket over his legs. “True terror comes from within Frankie, always remember that.”

“Night, creep.”

“Night, son.”

***********************************************

Gerard is exhausted after Halloween but manages to drag himself into work to collapse in the back room most of the day. It's blissfully quiet and he manages to make it through the morning shift without falling asleep too often. His make-up is still a little present along his jaw, his eyes a little more panda style than usual, dark circles surrounding them. His wrists are stained with splattered paint, make up and dirt from where he didn't do much more than wash his face before work.

Shutting up shop at lunchtime, he heads home, Charlie coming in to work the afternoon shift so Gee can get some rest. (Of course, if Charlie would work the morning shift that would be better, but that was never going to happen. Charlie's D and D group have a Halloween special meet up, full costumes and everything, and his hangovers tend to be of epic proportion.) The whole of town has a sleepy feel to it, stay at home mums bleary eyed from sugar hyped little monsters and hungover teens yawning widely. 

In his make up, last night, Gee was the master of Halloween, the king of the scares, and everyone recognised him. Today, he's just the vaguely Goth geek from the comic book shop. It was weird to have the attention and popularity – or more accurately notoriety - again however briefly, but this is better. It's not anonymity, the town is way too small for that and he still sees the looks and catches his name on the breeze, whispers following him, but he doesn't care any more. 

The house is peaceful when he gets in, his mom not back from the Halloween gathering of the collectives yet and Mikey at school, so Gerard takes himself off to bed, stopping just long enough to wriggle off his jeans and jacket before collapsing face down on the bed. 

The next thing he knows a cup of coffee has appeared alongside the collection of dead mugs on his bedside table, the sun is starting to set through the small basement window, and his mom is bustling around his room. She hums as she collects up dirty laundry and he rolls over, waving at her as he takes a drink.

“How was the Haunted House?”

Nodding, he holds a thumb up and swallows, looking through his abandoned jacket for cigarettes. “Good. One of the traps broke halfway through but we got it fixed. How was the hippy hoe-down?”

Clipping him round the back of the head as she passes, she drops the basket of laundry on his bed. “Fine, as always. The Taylor sisters asked after you.”

Pulling a face, Gee shakes his head. “Tell them I'm gay.”

“I tried, they just see that as a challenge. They did look very cute in the moonlight procession though, very pert.”

Gerard drops the mug onto the side and claps his hands over his ears. He does not need to hear about his mum eyeing up teenage girls. “Mom...”

“Oh shut up,” sitting on the bed beside him, she ruffles his hair and smiles sadly as he grins back at her. “I do wish you boys would embrace the collective life more sometimes.”

“Mom-”

“I don't mean anything you're uncomfortable with, I know the midnight procession can be a little intimidating, although it's only a little nudity at most, we all have bodies-”

“La la la la la!”

Laughing, she holds up her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, I've somehow raised a boy who doesn't know how cute he is or how many young women would love to see him naked. Actually quite a few older ones as well wouldn't mind a peek-”

“Eww.” Gerard's face is a picture, his mouth open in shock and the look of disgust enough to set his mum off in a giggle fit. “S'not funny!”

“Oh come on Gee,” she manages to get out between giggles, “if you could see your face.”

“If you've just come down here to annoy me-”

“I'd say my mission was accomplished.” Calming down, she stares at him fondly. “Seriously though, it would mean a lot to me if you two would be a little more involved, it's just... There's safety in numbers, and I worry about you being isolated.”

Gerard snorts. “Isolated? We've got our friends, and their families, an you and dad and nan-”

“And we are all in the same collective Gerard, and there is no point expecting them to help you when you need them if you don't give something back yourself. You have magic, you need to embrace your own culture more-”

“Yeah, but you don't have magic any more so why does it matter so much to you?”

He regrets the words the second they escape his lips and quickly shakes his head. “I didn't mean-”

“Gee it's okay.”

“I just- It always sucks so much going to the ceremonies, hearing everyone remind you of what a great healer you used to be, of how I stole that from you-”

“Stole?” Her shock cuts him short as she stares at him harshly. “You think you _stole_ my powers from me?”

Gee knows better than to try to lie and nods his head slowly. “You lost your powers when you had me, if I hadn't been born-”

“Oh Gerard,” understanding suddenly floods her face and she pulls her fully grown son into her arms like he was a small child again. “You silly boy, is that why you stopped coming to the gatherings?”

“Everyone was always going on about how great you were and our heritage and shit, and you'd get this look on your face and then everyone would say about expecting big things from me to make up for it-”

“Oh Gee,” she's laughing, just softly, the sound not cruel at all but almost relieved, as though getting to the bottom of a very old mystery. “You did not steal my powers. I knew the risks when I chose to have you, and I have never been prouder of you than I was the day I realised you were going to be a healer. You didn't steal anything sweetheart, I gave them to you. You would always have been a defender, that was your destiny, but to be a healer too- Baby, you are so much more powerful than you know, and you can do so much more...”

“I know I don't practice much-”

“I don't mean that, I'm not nagging, I just want you to be happy. And I don't think you will be until you're not hanging round here waiting for Mikey to grow up.”

“Mom-”

“I know exactly what you're doing Gee, and I love you so much for it, but once he graduates you two won't be tied down here any more. You could go anywhere, do anything, but if you don't have a collective or coven I worry about you.”

“I'm not going anywhere-” Pulling back, Gee looks at his mum and catches a glimpse of something else in her face, a fear that wasn't there before. “Mom, what's brought this on? What's wrong?”

Sighing she shrugs. “One of the covens from Chicago has a seer, powerful one, and she picked up on something. There's something stirring, a darkness in the magics round here, and something's moving. She couldn't narrow it down much, but she saw you and Mikey-”

“Mom-”

“She thinks you're going to be involved somehow, but it's not just that honey. If she can see it, if it's  
that powerful, she's worried it will draw in darker forces or... or Witchfinders.”

“Let them come,” Gee says darkly, a slight crackle of blue flashing over his knuckles as he clenches his fists reflexively. “Let them try to touch any of my friends.”

“Don't be stupid, the collective are working to cast a white net over the town so they can hide us, it shouldn't come to that. Gee, just promise me you'll be careful. Look after your brother, and your friends and just... watch out.”

“I will.”

She kisses his forehead and scoops up the laundry basket again, leaving him in peace, but Gerard's mind is whirring more than before. A darkness is coming, some sort of danger. There's nothing else for it.

As soon as the Haunted House is cleared up and the excuses to hang out fade away, he has to stop Frank coming round, at least until whatever the problem is makes itself known. It's the only way to keep him safe.

Because there is no way in Hell he is risking losing Frank too.


	4. Chapter 4

Between his magic and his schooling, Mikey likes to think that he is prepared for most things in life. That is until Friday afternoon when the beat up old Chevy pulls into the parking lot, the guy leaning out the passenger side hooting along with the music pounding through the bodywork.

“IERO!”

Mikey jumps as the shout comes out, and looks round to see the biggest grin on Frank's face. “Pete! Gabe! Man are you a sight for sore eyes! Come on Mikey, come meet the guys.” Mikey lets himself be dragged along, slightly bemused and all too aware of Brendon drifting after them, staring at Pete like it's his birthday.

“Frankie, angel!” Pete jumps out of the car before it's even stopped moving, almost tripping over his feet as he holds out his arms, Frank jumping into them like a kid, kissing Pete's cheek as he goes. “Missed me?”

“Fuck yeah,” Frank replies, wrapping his legs around Pete. The driver is more sedate, unfolding his frame from the car slowly and folding his arms as he looks on with an amused smile. 

“You gonna hog him all day Wentz?”

Laughing, Frank jumps down and runs round the car to hug Gabe, holding on tight even as Pete throws his abandoned bag into the trunk. “Gabe, you fucker, I thought you weren't due till later?”

“We skipped a lecture, so sue us,” Gabe laughs, nodding to Mikey over Frank's head. “'Sides, worth it to see the look on your face. And your friends'.”

Frank pulls back quickly and grins at Mikey, as though only just remembering where they all are. “Mikey, sorry, guys, this is Mikey Way, Mikey this is Gabe and Pete, my old friends.”

“Ahem,” Brendon coughs, none too discreetly, widening his eyes at Frank who rolls his in return. 

“And Brendon.”

“Brendon,” Pete says softly, stalking closer in that way that Frank had forgotten he had. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Jailbait,” Frank coughs out as politely as he can, Brendon throwing him an evil look even as Pete sighs and turns his attention to Mikey instead.

“Mikey. Thank you for taking such good care of our little Frank.”

“Little?!”

Mikey just shrugs, nodding under his fringe, and Pete's grin widens, shark like. “Sure we can't tempt you to come join us for the weekend, it's gonna be fun. Y'know,” he drawls softly as he can, putting on a ridiculous accent, “boy stuff.”

“I'm free,” Brendon adds quickly, shifting to look over Mikey's shoulder at Pete, and Pete laughs kindly.

“Call me when you graduate sweetie and I may take you up on that.” Tossing a salute to Mikey, Pete steps back, returning to the car as Frank slides into the back seat. “Better hit the road, sooner we go the sooner we come!”

Shaking his head, Gabe opens the drivers door again and nods to Mikey. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Mikey manages to get out, not quite sure how to react as they leave, the car manoeuvring awkwardly through the milling crowd of teenagers with Frank waving gleefully out the back window as they go.

“Pinch me,” Brendon sighs beside Mikey, and Mikey resists the urge to do more than that, instead settling for tapping the underside of his chin to get him to close his mouth. “Frank's a lucky bitch, did you see the way that Pete guy held him? They are so more than just friends.”

“Urie?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” Brendon shrugs and walks off, unconcerned, but Mikey stands watching the crowds disperse for a while longer, and in spite of himself can't help but think Brendon is right.

 

******************************************

The guys' place is a mess, of course, their twin beds pushed together rather than on opposite sides of the room, even though he knows full well they're not actually a couple. Not exactly. At least, certainly not in the monogamous sense. He suspects (correctly) it's actually for his benefit as they don't even pretend to have an extra sleeping bag or anything, just one giant quilt and a couple of spare pillows. It's cosy though, and on the end of a corridor so peaceful compared to most of the busy dorm. Except for when the fire escape door bangs of course, but that isn't that often really.

Frank's quiet that evening, in all honesty a little culture shocked. Pete and Gabe have dragged him round room after room, with people offering him pretty much anything he wants with an easy smile, though he sticks to just a few beers. It's not the party lifestyle of the dorms that has surprised him though; Pete and Gabe have been holding his hands, kissing each other, referring to him as their little gimp and generally acting like a pair of old queens, camping it up far beyond what he's used to.

And nobody cares. Okay, so maybe not nobody. He can see the stares and jaw muscles going, the guys who hover too close to the wall the whole time Pete's nearby, and they do get a couple of openly hostile looks and insults from the sort of guys Frank would swear are actually just closeted little losers who are jealous. He doesn't feel threatened though, because they're not alone. There's new friends of Pete's that the guys keep introducing him too, and Gabe seems to know all the cheerleaders, and an entire Sorority house waves hello at one point. Yeah, so they are notorious, and some of their friends are more laughing at them than with them, but being a clown is better than being a punching bag. 

It's strange though, watching his friends ham it up beyond anything that he's ever seen and by the time they get back to the room it's like he's been cast in a play with two complete strangers playing the parts of his best friends. 

Then the door closes, the chain goes on, and Pete throws himself down on the bed with a sigh whilst Gabe grabs more beers from their mini fridge. The pretence ends and the voices drift down the scale, Gabe's normal voice coming through and significantly fewer 'darling' and 'sweeties' being uttered. Instead, they curl up on the bed and stick some music on and just talk and drink, the way he remembers from all those nights back home, especially when things were bad. 

When they turn off the lights and strip to their underwear, gathering up in a messy heap under the covers, it feels natural to kiss them goodnight, but when Pete's hand drifts down his stomach, tickling its way through the fine trail towards his crotch, Frank shakes his head quickly. Pete doesn't question it, just reaches up to ruffles Frank's hair instead and draws him into a hug, shifting easily from potential lover to big brother in seconds in that way only the two of them have ever managed.

Gabe plants a soft kiss on Frank's shoulder and grins against his skin. “You're really smitten with this Gerard guy then?”

Blushing a little, Frank just grins at Pete and shrugs. 

“Our little boy is growing up,” Pete sighs happily and kisses Frank's forehead. “Just remember, when the time comes, we want details.”

“Diagrams.”

“Measurements.”

“Transcripts.”

“Video.”

“And most importantly, marks out of ten in all categories so you can decide the most important question of all,” Gabe adds, grinning at Pete over Frank's shoulder.

“Who out of us all is the best.”

Closing his eyes, Frank shakes his head, but can't keep the grin off his face. “That's cheating, there's two of you.”

“At once,” Pete drawls, “which reminds me, we still owe you your birthday present. You really sure we can't tempt you? Maybe teach you a few new tricks to take home to your old dog...”

Growling, Frank wriggles to lie flat on his back between them, staring at the ceiling. “He is not an old dog.”

“A boy can never have too much practice though,” Gabe whispers, but he slips back into his slightly camp voice, the joke evident. 

“I'll cope. Now. You two gonna shut the fuck up and let me sleep, or am I gonna have to call that nice young man two doors down who offered to come save me from you two sinners?”

“Oh him?” Pete snorts. “You're safer with us than that guy.”

“I know I am,” Frank says seriously, staring at Pete in the half light in the room. “I always have been.”

“And always will,” Gabe says, wrapping an arm over Frank's stomach even as Pete does the same on the other side. “Sleep tight, Frankie Angel.” Closing his eyes, Frank tries to block out the unfamiliar noises of sleeping in a building full of people, sure he will never manage to get to sleep. But he's warm and comfortable and the guys smell so familiar and he is asleep long before the first revellers start to drift back from the bars.

**************************************

The club is loud and crowded and kind of filthy and Frank should feel intimidated, being shorter than most people there by about a foot, but he's in his element. The music is thudding straight to his soul and he's throwing himself around like a lunatic, Pete and Gabe barely bothering to even try to keep up. He's stone cold sober but that doesn't matter, he doesn't need anything else, just the atmosphere is enough to keep him going.

It doesn't stop him needing to take a break every now and then for a cigarette though. Pushing through the crowd to the smoking balcony, it takes him three attempts to get past a huge group of girls all squealing over something but he finally escapes through the door onto the balcony. It's cold, the air crisp on his sweat soaked skin and his damp hair seems to catch every single draught and funnel it directly onto his brain. It's a relief after the hot club and as he lights up, he drifts over to the edge to stare down at the street below.

The cars pass by in a steady stream, despite the late hour, and he watches the lights flicker over the road, hissing against the asphalt. It's hypnotic, his drags on the cigarette automatic as he gazes at the street, zoning out a little.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Frank turns his head and smiles politely at the newcomer, wondering how he hadn't spotted him before. He certainly should be easy to see in the club. Most of the guys are in sleeveless tops or t-shirts, jeans and sneakers the norm; this guy wouldn't look out of place in one of his mom's old British costume dramas. The sort with all the weird outfits and voices and servants and shit. 

His trousers are normal enough, skinny fit and dark. They show off incredibly long legs in a way that makes it look like they've been sprayed on. The boots are a nice touch, rising up his calves and laced rather than zipped, none of the usual biker buckles on them but simple, well worn but polished black leather. His shirt is the bit that stands out though. Or more accurately, the waistcoat over his shirt. Actually, Frank concedes, it's the entire top half of his body that makes the stranger distinctive.

His hair is long, curling in soft waves around his shoulders and a dark brown that doesn't seem to pick up any of the streetlights, just a solid mass that remind Frank of bad experiments with hair dye that he's lived through. The face is delicate, eyes expressive as they regard him, completely oblivious to the fact that their owner just doesn't fit in in the grungy little club and should never be allowed anywhere near a mosh pit for fear of him getting wrinkled.

Because he blatantly looks like a very clean pirate. Admittedly, Frank's frame of reference for this thought is basically Orlando Bloom, but still, it's a fair comparison. The shirt is a creamy colour, not even a little bit fitted, but has drawstrings on the neckline to keep it closed even as it flows over his skinny body with ease. The waistcoat is thicker, something heavy, maybe even velvet or suede and Frank wonders where the fuck you would even buy such a thing.

It's the belt that does it though, a wide sash around the waist that just screams bad wannabe pirate or extra from an eighties music video. 

Vintage and retro fashions have a lot to answer for. 

Frank knows he's staring but seriously, who wouldn't? He's amazed there isn't an entire line of people just pointing and giggling at the guy but instead he seems unconcerned, as though he and Frank are the only two people in the world.

And he asked Frank a question. Shit, what was it? His smile fades to a blank look and his brain fights valiantly with his memory to try and find the answer whilst his mouth sends frantic requests for instructions (other than hang open gormlessly, which it is handling quite well on its own thank you.)

“Huh?”

Frank's brain sends a WTF memo to his mouth and gives up the fight, the memory scuttling away and sliding out through Frank's ear like a kid on a helter skelter. 

“I said,” the guy repeats, smiling kindly, “penny for your thoughts?”

Even his voice is refined, smooth, a little too clean, and seriously, he should be in some sort of romantic novel or bad chick flick. How is he even real?

“I, uh,” Frank stutters, trying to find a single thought in his head worth repeating. His brain offers to send out a search party. “You look weird.”

That was most definitely not what he meant to say. 

“I mean, uh- Oh shit,” Frank laughs, shaking his head quickly, and he's so gonna get punched, but then the guy laughs too, unconcerned and amused by it.

“I suppose I probably do, but you get used to it. I'm William,” he says, and Frank half expects him to offer his hand or something but instead William just looks at him.

“Frank.”

“Nice to finally meet you Frank. I've been watching you for a long time.”

Okay, that's creepy, but Frank is in a crowded club, there's dozens of people around, and it's not like the guy is gonna transform into Dracula, sweep Frank into his arms and fly off into the night. There's even a bouncer lurking by the door, his gaze sweeping over Frank as he watches out for anything suspicious, so fuck it, take it as a compliment.

“Wish I could say the same.”

William laughs, even though it was a crap line, and turns to look over the balcony at the cars rushing by. “So much has changed, yet so much stays the same. Still, there is plenty of time to catch up. Now, where do you want to begin?”

Frank chokes on his cigarette, glancing round the balcony as he coughs, a few people looking his way and rolling their eyes at the kid who can't even handle his smokes. “What the fuck, man? Begin what?”

William frowns, staring at Frank in confusion. “You do know who I am, right, you were expecting me? I'm William Beckett, you can call me Bill if you must, but you should have known I was coming.”

Frank is a little weirded out now but hey, if the guy has a whole 'destiny has brought me to you' thing going on then whatever. “Yeah, sorry man, but no. Forgot to read my horoscope today.” Sucking his cigarette down to the filter, he stubs it out. “Nice meeting you though Billy.”

“It's Bill, and I don't mean-” His face suddenly clears and he stares at Frank oddly. “You don't know who I am.”

“What can I say, but nope, not a clue.”

“I-” The guy looks panicked, then shrugs, forcing a grin back onto his face like a really bad actor in a made for TV movie. “My mistake, I thought you were- Look, sorry, forget I spoke-”

“No worries mate,” Frank chuckles, figuring it out at last. “Blind date, or internet meet up?”

Bill looks confused, then smiles again. “Ah, yes, quite right, I thought-”

“Really, don't worry,” Frank says, moving past him to the door back into the club. “Hope you find who you're looking for.”

“Me too,” Bill says forlornly, but Frank doesn't hear as he loses himself in the club again, in search of his friends or a few inches of space in which to dance the rest of the night away.

****************************

The weekend passes far too quickly, a blur of faces and dancing and shouting and sleep, curled up in bed with his friends. It's so different to his last birthday, nothing sexual at all involved, almost as though they've moved beyond that now, but it's just what he needs. There's no tension, no pressure, nothing but fun and an easiness to every conversation and move that chills him out completely. 

That fades a little when he gets home, his mom still looking at him strangely and asking about his weekend, as though afraid her little boy has been molested or led astray by all those college kids. As if. 

School goes well too, swapping tales with the guys and being interrogated about college chicks and clubs and the band that was playing and all the details they can get. Brendon on the other hand mostly asks about Pete and Gabe, and whether they are a couple. It would be cute if it wasn't so disturbing to picture Brendon easily getting in over his head with them.

Mikey is quiet – okay, quieter than usual, Mikey is always pretty quiet – concentrating on his food and he doesn't really say much. Frank, in one of his more fanciful moods, puts it down to the full moon, the same way a couple of the girls in his class seem to be even more annoying than usual. His new watch ticks quietly over, the little round circle of the moon rising to the top and making him grin. It is an awesome present. He especially can't wait to show Gee properly, they were a bit too rushed on his birthday, and besides, he was too busy stammering his thanks for the comic to really even think about any of his other presents.

He figures there will be time tonight, Mikey letting him know there's the final clear up to do at the house. Frank's missed the get out party, all the others who have lent gear or time to the house long gone, but there's the last bits of paint and material to gather up and lock the place up for a bit longer.

When he gets there it's weird; the house is emptier than he's ever seen it, even since that first time, but it somehow feels more lived in now. The rooms are empty but the dust is gone (thank goodness), the paint refreshed and the feel of the visitors lingering a little somehow. It's peaceful, as though the house was awakened for Halloween and is now sighing, settling down for another restful sleep.

It's certainly more peaceful than Frank. Gee is still being a little off with him, but it's disguised under a layer of too polite, too bright smiles and happy jokes and the sort of bullshit look he recognises all too well from his own face, those last couple of weeks at his old school. His thoughts of a chance to try and catch up with Gee, to get things back on track, die away and he focuses instead on the work. Gerard doesn't want him, it's never gonna happen, and he just needs to move on, it's him, Gerard is just a cool, normal guy, who simply doesn't want him.

He's still telling himself that when all Hell breaks loose and he realises that actually, normal is the last word in the world to describe his friends after all.

*********************************

It takes Frank a second to catch up with them that something's wrong. It's nothing, they are just cleaning up the bedroom, Ray at the window and Mikey and Gee folding sheets, but Ray just stops talking mid sentence, his argument with Gee about whether this is the best house yet dying on his lips. Frank just grins, figuring Ray is finally conceding the point, but then Mikey stops moving too, his face blank as he twists to stare at Ray. “Ray.”

“It's Bob.”

Ray's voice is _low_ , lower than Frank's ever heard it, and he's just staring out the window, except the light's fading and he has to be seeing his own reflection more than anything outside. Gee is suddenly there, grabbing Ray's arm and staring into his face, seeing something Frank can't. Or looking for it anyway.

“Ray, tell me.”

“Bob... blood... it's...” Ray looks so distant, stoned or out of his head, pupils blown as he looks almost through Gee.

“Ray, come on dude, tell me.”

Ray blinks, his eyes starting to focus again, the blank look replaced with terror instead as he suddenly grips Gee back. “Bob. Bob's dad. Gee, I saw... Bob's dad, it's... He's gonna get free...”

“Shit.” Mikey's soft curse is terrifying in its flatness, but it's the look of sheer horror on Gee's face that draws Frank's attention.

“Fuck, tonight?” Gee looks out the window, as though searching for something, then pulls Ray's arm, his gaze finding Mikey's. “Car, now, we have to get there.”

“You drive, I'll call Bob.” 

Suddenly they're all running and Frank is struggling to keep up with them, almost falling down the stairs as he races with them to the car. “Wait, what's going on?”

Gee stops, his face panic stricken as though he's only just remembered Frank is there. He look's torn, but Mikey just throws him a look and keeps moving, jumping into the car.

“Frank, we...” Gerard pushes his hair back, and shakes his head. “Bob's in trouble and we have to... You see he... It's complicated, look, stay here and I'll come back, I'll explain later-”

“I'm coming.” Frank pushes past him and jumps into the back seat beside Mikey, who looks at him so strangely, it's like being x-rayed. Mikey then just stares at Gee and Frank has no idea what that look means, but Gee is moving again, throwing himself into the driver's seat.

“Fine. Frank, you do what we say, when we say, no questions, and just stick close to me, okay?” Revving the engine, Gerard flicks on the lights and takes a deep breath. “Hold on tight!”

****************************

Ray hurts, his chest hurts, his whole body seems to ache and he can't stop shivering. It's never been this strong outside of a dream before, he's never felt like this before, and he just can't stop shaking. It was terrifying, the night so clear around him, and the smell of the wolf, the dig of claws into his side; he can't even tell _who_ he was seeing through, whether it will be Bob or someone else, but all Ray can feel is the fear, the knowledge that it will happen. Soon.

He can't stop twisting in the car, trying to follow the setting sun, counting down the seconds until it disappears and what he's seen, what he knows will happen, can start to come true. He barely notices as Mikey and Gee talk, trying to stay calm, but he can hear the fear in their voices as Gerard throws the beat up car around another corner, balding tyres and old brakes squealing in protest.

“He's not answering his cell.”

“Try the house.”

“I tried there first, his mother is supposed to be watching tonight isn't she?”

“Yeah, but she didn't know if she would be off work in time.” Gerard slaps the horn as another car tries to pull out of a junction without spotting the speeding wreck coming towards him and swerves to miss their wing. “Fuck! Mikey, call him.”

“I already tried-”

“I mean fucking _call_ him, you've got to warn him!”

Frank is lost trying to follow the conversation, his slight form folded up in the corner and holding onto the door for dear life, his gaze catching Ray's for a second as they get back into the centre of town. He's lost but keeps quiet, just taking everything in, and Ray has no idea how he's taking this. They are gonna have a lot of explaining to do.

Assuming they survive the night of course.

“I can't call him from this distance, Gee-”

“Try!”

Ray twists in the passenger seat to face Mikey, watching as his eyes close, his face screwed up in concentration. Mikey's pale, his lips a tight line, but it's frustration winning through on his face and even before he shakes his head Ray knows it's no use.

“I can't...”

The last of the sunlight dips below the horizon and Ray freezes, watching through the back window as the red sky takes over, the moon a dirty orb in the distance, mocking them all.

“Guys,” Ray whispers, shaking his head. “We're too late. It's time.”

***************************

Gerard can feel his foot down so far on the accelerator it's scaring him, the speed not actually that high but he can feel it again, the adrenaline and fear and the sight of the streetlights flicking past the window is threatening to make him panic. _It's not the same, it's not the same, I'm in control, we're not going to crash, we're not-_

He almost misses the turn into Bob's road, taking the corner too loosely and drifting over the other side, scaring the life out of a kid walking on the sidewalk, but a second later they are gone and skidding into Bob's drive and tumbling out of the car. Ray grabs Frank and holds him back a little, putting his bulk between Frank and the house, but Gee can't wait, is already scrambling forward.

The basement door is wide open, the wood splintered, and he knows the basement is empty, the wolf is gone, there's only one person left in the house.

And they're really hurt.

He can feel it. His side _burns_ , it's on fire, pain blossoming along his ribs and it's not his, it's not his pain, just a ghost of someone else's, but it's enough to draw him in. Mikey is beside him, his face pale as together they follow the call, Mikey gasping with the intensity as a little furrow of pain passes over his face.

“Mrs Bryar-”

“Up.” Gee takes the stairs two at a time, almost tripping and having to go onto all fours for a second to recover, even as Mikey calls out loud, a panicked gasp answering them.

“Boys? Oh thank God.”

Gerard regains his balance and stands upright as he reaches the corridor but suddenly realises his hands are splattered with blood, warm and blotched on his palms like his favourite red ink. There's a trail leading across the carpet, sticky and fresh, and he skids to the bathroom door, shoving it open and sliding to his knees on the once white tiles even as he's vaguely aware of the others behind him.

“Holy shit.” Ray's voice is soft but trying so hard to be calm and Gee can understand the terror, his heart pounding with both his pulse and hers, feeling life blood trickling away with every beat.

_Don't let it be a bite, please, don't let it be that..._

She's sitting up, her back pressed against the bathtub, her dress slick with her own blood and torn at one side. She's pressing a once cream towel against the flow, trying to stop it, but her face is so deathly pale and she looks about a breath away from passing out. Her face is smeared with her own blood, an imprint of her fingers caught in her hairline at some point, and she's sweating like mad. Her relief to see him is evident though and she reaches for him.

“Gerard, please... It's not a bite.”

Relief floods through him, his hesitation vanishing. He can do this, he can help her. It only takes him a second to grab her hand in reply, pulling her away from the tub and lowering her to the floor. Her tension starts to leave and he knows, he just knows she's been hanging on for help, forcing herself to stay awake in the hope that they would come. That he would come.

As he lifts the towel, he can barely hear the gasps of the others, or hear Mikey's gentle voice on the phone calling for an ambulance, or Frank's confused questions as to what's happened to her. The gouges in her side are deep, really deep, and it hurts so bad in his chest. He can't fix it, not completely, but he doesn't have to, he just has to help her keep going. Help is on the way.

Shifting the towel to one side, he doesn't have to look or even think before Mikey is sliding in beside him, the call passed to Ray. Mikey lifts her head onto his lap, stroking her hair back from her face and staring into her eyes, intense, and Gee watches her, waiting for the moment Mikey is with her, blocking the pain-

There. As she loses focus, Gerard places his hands over the cuts, feeling the blood push through his fingers, sliding against his skin, cloying and slick at the same time. Closing his eyes, he focuses as best he can, doing what his mother has been teaching him to do since he was seventeen.

He can feel her pain, every beat of it, and the edges of the wound, and he can feel it as a giant purple ink stain on her body, dark and evil and pulsing. Gee doesn't know if everyone sees it this way, if other healers look at it like this; he's never met one to compare notes, but for him it's always colours. 

He can see the colours of the wound, mixed like paint under his hands, and he has to make it lighter again. He can see Mikey beside him, a blazing furnace of white light, healthy and whole, except for a dark smudge around his head where a headache is forming, a small stormcloud on his figure. He can feel Ray behind him, scared and weak from earlier, but still strong, still light. And Frank-

He's blinding.

Gerard can feel his own energy and digs down, rooting himself to the Earth, anchoring himself firm so he doesn't lose himself in the process. Then, instinctively, Gerard reaches out and pours his own energy into her body, channelling more from... He's never been entirely sure how to describe where he gets it from. 

To some, it's the planet itself, mother Earth and nature, to others it's the energy of life itself or the human race; he has even heard it jokingly described as being like 'the force' before, but to Gee it's always been more than that. It's spiritual. It's his soul. This moment, this sacrifice, when he's giving part of himself to save another, the energy coming through him is more than just some random occurrence, to him it's like touching God, like receiving His help and blessing, doing His work.

As the energy builds he guides it through his fingers, adding white paint to the pot of colours in their souls and stirring as best he can, dribbling his own life force into hers. It's exhausting, the colour's too dark, he knows he can't stop it completely, but he doesn't have to. He just has to make it lighter, he just has to give her enough strength to keep going.

Gerard can feel his own body getting so heavy with every breath, but it's working, the pressure of her wound easing, and he can feel it getting shallower, narrower, not closing completely but getting smaller, easier for her body to cope with. His fingers are shaking, his whole body growing weak, it's working, but he can't hold on, he can feel himself falling away, unable to keep holding on, but he has to, just a little further-

Gee gasps as something wraps around him, arms and body supporting him, holding him up, but so much more than that. It's like being wrapped in a hot blanket on a cold day, so soothing and right, and it gives him a final surge of strength, enough to pour a piece more of himself into her. Except that's not quite right, it's more like he's channelling it from someone else. Someone stronger than himself.

She gasps at last, Mikey's connection breaking as Gerard finally falls away, collapsing back into a heap, not even caring who or what is holding him up, just accepting the support gratefully. Mikey is slipping too, sliding down onto the floor, and Gee tries to focus, tries to reach out, but then Ray is there, holding Mikey up and keeping him safe. Which confuses Gee for a minute, because if Ray is there then who-

Oh.

“Gerard... Thank you.” He can barely keep his eyes open but Mrs Bryar is grabbing his hand and squeezing tight, her strength returning, her eyes sharp again as tears run down her cheeks.

“Mrs B,” Ray says at last, letting go of Mikey long enough to help put a fresh towel over her wound. This time it doesn't soak through straight away, although the pain on her face at the pressure is evident and sends a spike through Gee's numb body. “What happened?”

“The wolf... He lost control. Didn't... Take his meds in time.”

“Where's Bob? Mrs Bryar, what happened to them?”

“The wolf ran... Bob... chased him. Help him, please,” Gee tries to squeeze her hand back but can barely manage it. “Please, don't let them get hurt!”

“We... We won't,” he whispers, but then he can hear sirens. “Shit, we have... have to-”

“I'll go.”

Ray takes off as Mikey slides up to his feet, dragging himself out the way and reaching for Gee's hand as he passes. But Gerard doesn't need it, another pair of arms are lifting him up, wrapped around him so tight and yet so gentle. He can barely resist as they guide him out of the bathroom, ducking into Bob's bedroom as Ray returns with the paramedics.

Instead, he turns, facing Frank at last and can see every trace of horror and concern in his eyes. This is not what he wants, not the way he wanted to tell him, not that he wanted to tell him at all-

“Frankie,” Mikey whispers, a hand on his arm. “I know this looks crazy-”

“Crazy.” Frank keeps his voice down, Ray standing guard in the doorway as the medics get Mrs Bryar onto a stretcher and keep asking him questions he can't answer. “That's one word for it. Just...” Frank takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I trust you guys, but I just watched... I don't know what the fuck I just saw and I knew you were hiding something... Right now I will believe anything you tell me, but I need the truth. Now.”

Gee can feel the terror pounding through his veins, his body so weak, yet his arms are still braced against Frank's body, holding him tight, letting himself be held up by the guy he's been trying so hard to tell himself is just a kid. But right now, all he can see in Frank's youthful face is concern and trust and it's killing him not to just kiss him -

Because yeah, whilst covered in one of your best friend's mom's blood and just waiting for her to be safe so you can go chase her werewolf husband down before her son gets killed is the perfect time to make out.

“We're...” Gee takes a deep breath and glances at Mikey. Mikey just nods. “We're sort of witches. Wizards. Magic type folk. I'm a healer, Mikey can read minds, Ray's a prophet and Bob's a telekinetic and his dad is a werewolf. And it's the full moon and he's loose and Bob's gone after him.”

Frank's mouth makes a perfect O and Gee glances at Mikey. With a shrug, Mikey reaches out and runs his fingertips along Frank's temples, Frank pulling back like it's an electric shock and staring at Mikey in amazement. Gee is so close, so raw, his mind ragged around the edges he can hear the echo of it in his mind.

_*It's true Frank.*_

“No shit...” 

They are jolted out of it by the stretcher going past the doorway, Mrs Bryar's eyes following them as she passes. A feeble wave of her fingers is cast in Gee's direction, but it's Mikey who reacts and nods at her, answering her without speaking, before he turns back to his brother.

“We have to find Bob.”

Nodding, Gerard turns his attention back to Frank. He's still holding onto him, like some sort of weird embrace, and it should be wrong, should feel odd to be locked in place like some sort of statue, but it's so comfortable. No, it's more than comfort, it's strength. He's never thought to look at Frank this way before, but now it's all he can see. 

Frank is so strong inside it's blinding, like pure energy and it's intoxicating. Gee can feel it recharging him, helping him to regain his strength, He wants more but there's no time, he wants to explain properly, to explain why they keep it secret, to say why _this_ more than the age thing is why he's backed off, but there's _no time_

“Then let's find Bob,” Frank says at last, shifting his arms to grip Gee differently, letting him take more of his own weight yet still supporting him. “Where do we start?”

“Ray?”

“I've got nothing.”

“Mikey?”

Mikey closes his eyes but shakes his head almost immediately.

“Okay, so we-”

 _*Wait!*_ Mikey's voice is loud enough to shock them but suddenly instead of words there's a scent, something sweet and cloying filling their senses, all three of them reeling as Mikey instinctively reaches out and sends what he is receiving.

“Bob,” Gerard breathes softly, and smiles, recognising the smell in a second. Letting go of Frank he runs for the door, staggering slightly. “Come on, I know where he is, he's heading for the Garden.”

“Wait!” This time it's Frank who yells, pointing at Gee's hands. “I know I'm an amateur, but if you're going after a fucking werewolf do you really wanna be covered in blood?”

“It's okay,” Gee mutters, his voice still tired. “He can't hurt me, I... It's like deflector shields-”

“It's not like we ever tested you against a wild animal, Gee, and you're tired” Mikey points out, a worry line in his brow over his glasses the only sign of his concern. “Plus you're covered in its _mate's_ blood, he has a valid point.”

Ray sighs and points to the bathroom. “Wash, fast, I'll grab one of Bob's tops for you, best we can do. Mikey, basement, get the gear. Frank, help Mikey. And wash your arms.”

They move, Frank staring down at his arms in surprise and frowning as he spots the prints of Gerard's hands, outlined in blood on his skin. Oh.

“There's a sink downstairs, come on.” Mikey grabs his hand and tugs, and then they're all gone, leaving Ray alone to root through Bob's wardrobe to find something that won't completely dwarf Gee.

*****************************************

Frank is surprised by how quickly he manages to clean his arms off. It should be more like in movies or Macbeth, all out damned spot and that shit, but instead it rinses away easily, fragile and so quickly dismissed again. Like he has no evidence left that he just watched one of his friends save someone's life.

Other than Mrs Bryar herself, and the state of the bathroom, of course.

Drying off, he hurries to the stairs down to the basement, ignoring the splintered door and following the sounds of Mikey moving around. 

“I'm over here.” Frank hurries closer and stops short as he sees the room, lit by a single flat bulb high up in the ceiling, covered over with a metal grill like in sports halls. The room itself looks like a nightmare or BDSM dungeon or something, chains hanging from the walls and hay scattered all over the floor. One corner really stinks, and he shies away from it, instinctively knowing what it's for, and wincing. This place is fucking creepy.

“Could be worse,” Mikey says, tugging a huge wooden chest out of the corner, all the metal on the hinges shining bright in the stark lighting. “One of Bob's girlfriend's found her way down here once. She went all apeshit and started calling him a freak so he calmly told her his parents shoot hardcore porn down here. Then he called her an idiot and said it was where they keep the leftover props from the Halloween house and test the traps. She bought it. Mostly. But there's still a rumour in town about the Bryars being porn stars.”

“Fantastic.” Frank helps him open the chest, the latch sliding freely but the metal soft and scratched and out of place, an odd material for a chest.

“It's silver.”

“You reading my mind Mikey Way?” Frank flips the lid open and looks at the chains inside, manacles and restraints and a large net tucked into a flap in the lid.

“Sorry, can't help it.” Mikey is still breathing too fast, adrenaline rushing, and shrugs as he grabs the net, the rope threaded through with silver and sparkling. “Kinda wired, it's hard to control. Especially when you're right next to me.”

“S'okay, I just...” Frank swallows hard and grabs the manacles Mikey points to as well as a weird muzzle thing that reminds him of an old neighbour's pitbull, shrugging them into his arms like a weird baby. “If you ever pick up on anything, uh, personal-”

“I won't tell Gee you pretty much loved him at first sight.”

Frank doesn't blush. Nope. Never. His face is just on fire because of the whole life and death situation and big, huge, life changing, revelations. Not because he's worried just how MUCH Mikey has picked up about what Frank really thinks about his _brother._ Nope. Not worried at all.

“It doesn't work like that Frank, I can normally stop myself, and the love thing everyone knows, you fucking shine with it, I wouldn't pry...” Kicking the chest closed, Mikey hooks a fucking crossbow to his belt and throws the net over his shoulder. “Look. We can do this later, right? After the werewolf-”

“Right, yeah, course.”

“Good.” Hurrying for the stairs, Mikey bounds up them two at a time, Frank right behind him, and he's sure he imagines the whisper in his head that makes him grin as he follows.

_*Your secret's safe with me. 'Sides, he's crazy about you too.*_

*********************************

Ray drives, recovered from his earlier shakes; this time it's Gerard who's slumped in the passenger seat, hugging himself tight as though trying to heal himself. His hands are tucked under his armpits, cold even inside Bob's giant black hoodie and he's shivering a little as the darkness outside grows. 

Frank can barely believe it's been only about half an hour since the sun set. It feels like a lifetime, as though he's aged a couple of years in the time. 

The car bounces as it leaves the road and hits a dirt track, Ray riding the accelerator and clutch hard as he guides the car between two hedgerows, fields full of crops and stubble hiding beyond. The hedges are high and dark, standing tall like sentinels in the darkness or a hiding place for mischief. Frank watches out the window, seeing it flash past, and shakes his head before whispering to Mikey, not wanting to distract Ray.

“What's the garden?”

Mikey's smile is tight, thin, as he glances at the others then turns to face Frank. “It's a garden, our nan made it, it's a Physic garden-”

“Physics, like, the numbers and forces and shit?”

“No,” Gee calls from the front seat, his voice stronger as he relaxes into a subject he knows, something he can _do_ , “although it derives from the same name, Physis, Greek for nature. A Physic garden's basically a herb garden for medicines, old fashioned herbal remedies and shit. Nan has a gift for growing stuff and nature, controlling the weather, that sort of thing and it's her garden, she makes remedies for people and 'cause of her gift they're pretty potent.”

“For a minute there I thought you were growing pot or something and this was all gonna turn out to be some weird trip,” Frank jokes and then stops as Gee squirms a little. “Wait, she doesn't-”

“She doesn't do anything illegal!” Gee squeaks and the edge of Mikey's lip quirks, just a little. “But some stuff is... uh...”

“Potent?”

“Yeah.” Gerard glances at Ray, his fingers tight on the wheel as he follows the narrow track. Nearly there. “There's this potion, Mr Bryar uses it and it pretty much knocks out the wolf, a bit like pot but for wolves. He eats it on his meat once he's turned and then just howls like a horny dog all night. But tonight he got out before it kicked in so he's wild. The garden has some of the ingredients though so he might've followed the smell-”

“Or Bob led him out of town so he couldn't hurt anyone else-” Mikey stops, frowning, before leaning forward between the seats, his elbow brushing against Frank as he moves and Frank feels a slight shiver in him. “They're here, we gotta hurry.”

“Yeah, well we're here too,” Ray announces, his voice hushed as the car crunches to a halt in front of a huge and well manicured hedge. They get out, dragging the chains and net from the boot where just a few hours earlier they were unpacking Halloween decorations. Frank is shivering too now, fear, adrenaline, and the cold setting in and he can see his breath in front of his face, crisp in the air. “Please tell me your nan doesn't collect anything at twilight?”

“No,” Gerard says, “midnight or dawn usually, although the full moon _is_ her usual harvesting time so she will be out tonight-”

“Right,” Ray sighs, “so, at least we know there's a plan B if we all get horribly killed or maimed. Your nan can find our bodies at midnight and assemble the elders and shit.” Mikey just throws him a look and Ray grins sheepishly. “You already texted your mom, didn't you?”

“The rest of the collective is on the way, mom's going to the hospital to check on Mrs Bryar, so we just have to trap the wolf long enough for them to arrive.”

“Is that what mom said?” Gee asks, grinning slightly oddly in the moonlight. His face is cast in shadow by the too big moon, his eyes bright in the dark as he looks at his brother. Frank swallows hard, trying to ignore the way his body is reacting to how fucking amazing Gee looks in moonlight. Seriously, this is _not_ the time for that.

“No,” Mikey explains patiently, “she said keep the fuck away and don't go in there unless we have to.”

“She spoils all our fun...”

Trying to chuckle along with them but finding his throat completely blocked by what feels like his own tongue, Frank grabs a handful of chains and follows the others away from the car. There's a barely there path leading around the hedgerow to an arched wooden door, a portcullis type window in its surface allowing a glimpse into the garden beyond.

It's open, a wide scratch gouged into the wood, and as they pause on the perimeter, a howl rents the air.

“Fuck.” Gee whispers it quietly, but the noise is more than loud enough in the dark. “Give me the net and stay behind me. Mikey, any warning you can give would be awesome, and for fucks sake, find Bob. Ray, Frank, grab the chains, once it's down see if you can shackle it but don't take any chances.” Swallowing hard, Frank watches as Gerard pushes the door open and steps into the garden.

*********************************

Bob isn't scared. He should be, he knows this. His body is certainly reacting with something like fear, but it's not that he's ignoring it, more that it just isn't reaching his brain. His hands are gripping tight to the Birch tree, its thin branches bending with his weight as he watches the garden below, trying to stay as high and still as he can.

The wolf is here. He can feel it. Not in the way that Mikey could, or even Gee, but he knows this creature so much more than they could ever know it. He's known it since he was born, grown up listening to its howls every single month. He's picked its fur off the basement floor and out of the bristles of their brooms. He's felt its stare through iron bars and smelt its stench, as much a part of his home as his mother's perfume or dad's aftershave and their favourite coffee.

He can smell it; above the moonlight blooms of the Evening Primrose and the wafts of crushed mint from his hurried run through the patch, and Earth, and wet grass from the watering the garden got at dusk, the plants lingering into the autumn far beyond what would normally be expected. The wolf is here, snuffling through the herbs and flowers and roots, scratching at the trees, searching for something and digging through the red berries of the nearby Dogwood. It's looking for the familiar scent of the herbs it eats every month; the Aconite is no longer flowering but to the wolf's sensitive nose the scent still lingers.

And his. He knows it smells him too. The wolf has wanted him ever since he was a baby, whether to eat him or turn him he's never been sure. He likes to think there is just enough control left within the wolf that it wouldn't eat him, that it would somehow recognise kin and turn him instead, but after tonight-

The image of his mum, screaming at him to run, blood running through her fingers, flashes through his mind and he shivers, gripping on tighter to the branch. It's only a subtle movement, a slight intake of breath, but it's enough to make the wolf stop and sniff the air, its eyes tracing over the Birch. As it finds him, the lips pull back, teeth bared as it spots him.

Shit.

_*Bob?*_

Closing his eyes, Bob grips tight as the Wolf stalks around his tree, growling deep in its throat. _*Mikey. About time you got here. Any chance the cavalry is coming?*_

_*Uh, dude, we ARE the cavalry. Your mom is gonna be fine, Gee got to her in time.*_

Bob lets out a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding and a fierce smile fills his face. At least until the Wolf lunges up from the ground, trying to reach him. Its breath is foul, reeking and enough to make Bob's stomach lurch. He hates the Wolf. He hates it with every cell in his body, hates what it does to his dad, hates what it's done to his mother, hates how his whole life has been spent dealing with it.

And most of all, he hates that there is nothing he can do to stop it, because to kill the Wolf is to kill his dad too.

Growling low in his throat, echoing the Wolf, Bob opens his eyes and stares the Wolf down. He may not be able to kill it, but he can certainly hurt it.

 _*Hurry the fuck up. Birch trees, back corner.*_ Taking a deep breath, he glances across the garden, listening as the gate creaks slightly. _*Did you bring the crossbow?*_

_*It's all yours. Just give me the word.*_

Baring his teeth back at the Wolf, Bob growls deeply, even as it leaps up again, jaws snapping just inches away from Bob's face, a fresh wash of hot and foul breath filling his senses. 

The Wolf is going to pay.

***************************

_*Bob's up the Birch.*_

Gerard nods, his fingers linked with Mikey's as his brother keeps a step behind him. It's so hard, letting Mikey in, but they can't risk talking and he can't risk letting his guard down for even a second. Physical connection helps though, he can hear Mikey even if he can't spare the concentration to share his own thoughts in return right now.

Besides, he's so aware of Frank behind them, his breath uneven but kindof excited, and if he lets himself think of him for even a second Gee is terrified of what he might let happen to Frank. He has to focus, when he is stupid or lets go, people get hurt-

The hoodie is too big on him, gaping around his chest in a way that makes him feel oddly exposed, the chill night air trying to seep in through the gaps, and it smells like Bob. It keeps slipping on his shoulder with the weight of the net and the zip around his neck is cold and keeps making him flinch but he likes it, it keeps him sharp as he guides them through the garden.

He knows the place so well, every plant and tree, each step filled with childhood memories of watching his nan plant and tend the shrubs and flowers, her gentle voice explaining each and every one and what they can be used for. He has books full of sketches, diagrams and recipes. The garden is such a part of his family and he knows that one day it will be his to maintain; his mother has enough knowledge to keep it going, and even though he will probably kill half of it within a year he knows it will be expected of him to carry on. Especially with the medicinal herbs.

Healer. Defender. He's supposed to protect people and help them, so what the Hell is he doing walking into a fight with a Werewolf? His heart is beating so fast, he's sure the Wolf will hear it. 

If it can hear anything over itself. The howl is so loud this time it's all he can do not to let go of Mikey's hand and cover his ears but he forces himself to stay alert, because there's another sound coming with it, a cry that's most definitely human. Gee gasps as pain slices through his hand, dull and sharp at the same time and he lets go of Mikey and brings it up to his mouth, sucking on the back of his hand instinctively even though the blood isn't there. It's on Bob.

Hurrying forward, Gee stumbles through the garden, crushing a patch of Echinacea, the petals purple in the moonlight and springing back slowly in his wake. He doesn't notice, the net heavy in his hands as he tries to run, the feel of Bob drawing him forward and pushing the danger away. He dashes past the prickly Holly bush and finally, there it is, the tall Birch rising into the cloudless night, Bob wrapped around its branches, his blood dripping to the ground below.

Gerard can feel his terror rising as he looks at the blood, trying to work out if it's a bite; if it's a bite he can't help, mystical wounds have their own energy, the magic of the Wolf one he can't overcome, and he hopes and prays they're not too late.

Then the Wolf turns and there's no time to worry about anyone else any more as it sniffs the air, watching him closely. Gee would swear it grins before, with a snarl, it turns and comes straight for him.

******************************

Frank yells, about to run forward but Ray wraps one arm around his waist and lifts him off the ground, tugging him close. “Don't!”

He struggles, his gaze fixed on Gee as the Wolf runs, all too long limbs and an oddly stretched look, so unlike the wolves he's seen before on the Discovery Channel or the half breeds that turn up every now and then. It's huge, and ugly, a too big and too distorted abomination of nature, and it turns his stomach to see it bearing down on Gee. 

Gerard grabs the net, flinging it forward as Mikey steps behind him, unclipping the crossbow and quiver from his waist and throwing them underarm towards the tree. Even Frank can see it's going to fall far short of Bob, the bow arcing down towards the grass, but then Bob stretches out his hand and the bow twists in mid air, rising up from the ground again impossibly and heading for his bloodstained hand.

The Wolf hits the net and screams; there's no other word for the noise it makes, but the net doesn't stop it. It slows it down but the creature is coming straight for Gee who just crouches down, his hands held in front of him as though that will be enough to stop a fucking huge beast. Mikey ducks behind him, hands pressed against his brother's back, holding him up or lending him strength or even maybe hiding behind him and Frank can't breathe, is sure his heart has stopped as the creature looks distracted then trips and skids along the grass towards Gee-

There's a deep flash of green and blue and purple and so many colours he can't even name one before it changes again, like an electrical short, and they're flashing around Gerard and Mikey, a rainbow soap bubble of colour and the Wolf shrieks like it's hit a wall. It doesn't stop entirely, its bulk ramming into Gerard's legs and sending both Ways back along the ground a good couple of feet, their legs scraping over the grass and mud until they end up half in an overhanging shrub of some sort, but the barrier holds, pressing the wolf back, holding it in place.

The Wolf is twisting in the net, trying to get back onto its feet and snapping everywhere, but then Bob raises the crossbow and fires, a flash of silver catching the light before an arrow embeds itself in the Wolf's side. It screeches again, a long and pain filled howl filling the air as its movements slow and suddenly Ray is letting Frank go. Back on his own feet, Frank stumbles for a second, then hears Mikey in his head, clear but sounding sore as a series of images flash through his mind, showing him what to do.

_*Chain it, quick, the arrow won't take it down for long!*_

Running forward, he almost fumbles the manacles in his hand but Ray is there, talking to him smoothly and clearly, guiding him to the right place to put the chains on. They fasten them with the silver net underneath them, rough and ready and inexact but it doesn't matter. Bob swings down from the tree and hurries over, grabbing the muzzle off Frank and climbing onto the netted Wolf, blood dripping down his arm onto its fur. Frank isn't sure how the Hell he's going to get the muzzle on but Bob does something to the Wolf's neck and it stills for a precious second, long enough for him to snap it in place.

Chained, netted, and muzzled, the Wolf whines piteously as Bob climbs off, collapsing down onto the grass alongside it and panting up at the sky. Frank is shaking with adrenaline, his body close to collapse, but a soft moan from Gerard brings all his muscles crashing back into focus. Scrambling across the grass, he peers into the now half plant half human shrub.

Gerard and Mikey are a tangle of limbs, branches, and petals, and Gee is coughing a little, but then Frank can hear Mikey, loud and clear.

_*We're fine. You guys?*_

“I'm cool,” Ray calls out, panting hard as he grins, his hair oddly bright under the moon as he shoves back from the Wolf and leans against the trunk of a tree.

“Just a scratch,” Bob mutters, wiping his hand with his mouth and sucking off the worst of the blood. 

“You want me to-” Gee starts, waving his hand around weakly.

“Nah, I'll live, save your strength. Fucking claws. Little fucker has a longer reach than I thought.” Dragging himself across the grass, he unashamedly curls up at Ray's side and rests his head on Ray's thigh. Ray strokes Bob's hair with sleepy motions as they get their breath back.

There's silence for a long second as Frank just watches Gerard and Mikey pull themselves from the shrub, hugging tight as they exchange some wordless conversation. Finally they both turn to look straight at Frank and Gerard frowns.

“Frank?” Gee calls out, his voice filled with concern, and Frank nods quickly.

“I'm f-fine. It's... I'm fine.”

He knows he sounds anything but, but figures that can be forgiven as he's maybe five feet away from a motherfucking _Werewolf_ that just tried to kill them all, with a guy who, in addition to making his cock leap like a fucking frog every time he so much as smiles, just put on the freakiest display of a forcefield ever. 

“I mean it, I'm okay.” Gerard looks at him and gives him a look, because he knows that Frank is really, really, not. Quirking a grin and summoning up bravado from somewhere deep inside Frank shrugs. “Trust me.”

Laughing, Gerard starts to try and stand up but gives an odd shake and collapses straight back down again, as though his joints are all made of jelly. “Good, 'cause I'm not. Fuck, I'm tired,” he manages to mumble out before laying himself out on the grass. 

Crawling closer, Frank lies down on the grass beside him, wrapping his fingers through Gerard's even as Mikey snuggles up to his other side, Gee's arm wrapping around him. It's cold, damp, the ground smells and the wolf is starting to wriggle again, but nobody moves, too exhausted to worry as Bob fires another arrow into the creature then lies down again.

As Frank watches the sky, clouds start to form, weirdly fast and beginning to blot out the moon, and concentrates on the feel of Gee's hand in his. It's so warm, a point of life and stability in all the fucked up craziness his world has suddenly become.

It's Bob who finally breaks the silence, rolling onto his side to face the others and press his cheek against Ray's leg before roughly wrapping his ripped hand up in his hoodie pocket. “I've got three questions.”

Ray waves his hand regally to give permission for Bob to continue and ignores the middle finger Bob raises to him in return for the first question.

“One, how the fuck did you know something was wrong?”

“Me,” Ray chuckled. “I foresaw your predicament and if you answered your fucking phone sometimes we might've been able to warn you.”

“Okay, two, what the fuck is little Frank doing here?”

Frank freezes, lifting his head to look at Bob and tries a weak grin, even though he's bristling at the 'little'. Having said that, from Bob's perspective everyone is little and he isn't gonna pick a fight with a guy who can use a crossbow.

“He was with us at the time, we didn't really have much choice.” Ray throws Frank a wink and grins. “'Sides, extra pair of hands really helped.”

“Fair enough.” Bob collapses onto his back again and raises a third finger and lifts his hand up. “Three. Anyone got a fucking cigarette?”

Frank digs into his pocket with his free hand, reluctant to let go of Gerard, and digs out the battered packet of cigarettes from his jeans and chucks them at Bob. Bob catches them with his bad hand and winces, but waves his thanks anyway. Ray hands him a lighter and Bob lights up before tossing the pack back, blood now staining the cardboard. 

Frank wipes it off on the grass then flicks a cigarette into his own mouth before offering one to Gerard. Gee nods, but doesn't have a hand free so Frank holds it out for him, trying not to watch too closely as Gee's lips close around the tip, and lights it for him. Finally Frank offers one to Mikey, tilting the pack at him.

Mikey shakes his head and just snuggles up closer to his brother. “Nah. Those things'll kill you.”

The Wolf chooses that exact moment to howl, making them all jump, and Frank can't help it, he starts to giggle, adrenaline and nicotine making him light headed. “These will kill me. As opposed to a fucking Werewolf.” 

Ray snorts, then laughs too, the sound way too loud in the growing breeze, and even Bob chuckles as Gerard starts to laugh too, contagious and loud, his fingers squeezing tight around Frank's and for a second Frank feels so light, like he could float away if he lets go of Gerard. Twisting onto his side, he mirrors Mikey and snuggles up to Gee's arm, watching Mikey's bright eyes over Gee's chest. Mikey considers him for a moment, gaze flicking to his brother, then back to Frank and he smiles, just a little.

Grinning, still fighting back the laughter, Frank holds on tight. Maybe this will be okay after all.

The happy feeling lasts until the first roll of thunder splits the sky.

********************************* 

The thunder makes them all jump, Gerard sitting bolt upright like he's been struck by lightning. “Shit, nan's coming.”

Mikey nods, staring at Gee and there's this wordless exchange before their gaze flicks to Frank. Gerard looks guilty, flushed, and Frank just knows he's about to get bad news. “Frank, it's probably best if-”

“We're not supposed to tell anyone,” Gee blurts out, trying to hold Frank's gaze but dropping down to their still joined fingers instead. “It's dangerous and we're supposed to keep mug- Non magic folk out of it, and with the werewolf-”

Frank nods and gently takes back his hand, scrambling away in the grass and glancing at his watch. They've been there for barely half an hour but it feels like he's been sitting in the grass forever, his clothes damp and chilly against his skin. “Yeah, no, that's cool, I'll just-”

“The car's still open,” Ray says quickly, jiggling his leg under Bob's head and making him growl and wrap his hand around Ray's thigh to try and get him to hold still again. “There's a blanket on the back seat, we won't be long.”

“Right. No worries, I'll just go pretend like nothing happened.” Sticking his hands in his pockets, Frank tries not to notice when Gee looks up, his eyes large with hurt. Fuck him, he isn't going to worry about Gerard Fucking Way the witch right now. “If you need me I'll be hiding in the car.”

“Frank-” Gee starts, then stops, Mikey's hand on his arm.

Trying not to hunch his shoulders and ignoring the sinking feeling of rejection in his stomach, Frank follows their trail of destruction through the garden and back to the car. At least now he knows, it's not age, or sexuality, or bad timing, or any such shit that is keeping Gee from giving him the time of day. 

It's 'cause he isn't like _them_. 

At least when he thought it was just age there was hope that in time Gee would reconsider, or if he was straight Frank would back off, course, but this? To be given a glimpse of such a world and know that he will never be allowed in... Frank suddenly has a lot more sympathy for Harry Potter's muggle aunt. Lying down on the back seat, he tucks the blanket over himself roughly and tries not to cry.

***************************************

The others don't say a word when they return, piling into the car and sort of nudging Frank into the middle of the back seat, pressed between Mikey and Gee. Gerard is snuffly, like he's getting a cold, and stares out the window whilst Bob bounces his hand on his thigh with every few seconds, drumming out some unknown tune in his head. Ray drives, the least wiped out of all of them, and Mikey... Frank tries to keep as much distance between them as possible, holding his body tight in the middle of the car and using his legs to keep himself upright and not lean into either of them with the turns.

He has a feeling it's no use though; the look Mikey gives him, so sad and searching, makes him feel like every word and emotion in his head is flashing up on his face like some special effect. So he runs through songs in his head, picking out guitar chords, replaying scenes from films, anything and everything to try and avoid the face that keeps popping up in his mind.

They drop Bob off at the hospital, Mrs Way greeting him at the entrance and waving at the boys whilst Frank ducks down again, feeling like a fucking leper or their dirty little secret. His phone buzzes in his pocket as they return to civilisation and he returns the half dozen missed calls and texts from his mother with an excuse of car problems and no signal. It's half true. He's so gonna be grounded for, like, until he graduates but hey, after tonight he doubts it's like he's ever going to have anywhere to go ever again, not once Gee finishes giving him 'the talk'.

He can feel it coming, the 'it's not you, it's me', chat, and this time it won't just be BS. Not completely anyway. 

They finally stop at the Way house, Mikey clambering tiredly out of the car and fumbling the front door key a few times before making it inside. Ray mutters something about needing the loo before going back to the hospital and follows Mikey in, leaving Gee and Frank in the back of the car. The silence is oppressive, bearing down on them as Gerard makes several abortive attempts to speak before finally managing to blurt something out.

“I can drive you home-”

“I'll walk.” Opening the door, Frank starts to get out and stops at the feel on Gee's hand on his shoulder. “It's okay, I get it, you don't have to explain. I'll leave you alone.”

“Frank-”

Tearing himself loose, Frank bursts from the car and slams the door behind him, striding off into the night and trying to keep his guts from twisting up inside him. He feels like he's going to be sick.

“Frank!” Gerard is there, behind him, the car door slamming shut as Gee's sneakers squeak on the wet grass as he tries to catch up. “Wait, I don't... It's not that I-”

Frank runs away. He can't help it, he needs to do something, anything, to release the pressure in his head because it hurts too fucking much. And Gee probably knows that, that's why he's running too, he just wants to try and make it feel fucking better.

He doesn't want to feel better. He wants to hurt. It's what he deserves, it's what he always deserves, he doesn't get to have nice things like friends and a hot, cute guy like Gee. 

The sidewalk is hard beneath his feet and he veers off across the park, under the trees, cutting through the grass and feeling the autumn leaves crunch under his feet, Gee crashing through them a few paces behind.

“Fra-” There's a thud, the crunching increasing, and Frank stops. Gerard's tripped or something, curled up in a heap on the path, and he can't help it, he's running back before he's even thought about the fact that this is his chance to get away. He hadn't noticed before just how pale Gee looks, or how the shadows under his eyes are deeper then ever. He looks like fucking Hell, and suddenly Frank wonders just how much tonight took out of him.

Dropping to his knees, his skin sticking through the rips in his jeans, Frank helps Gee sit up, wrapping him up in a hug from behind like he did in the bathroom, supporting Gee against his chest. It's instinctive, not something he can explain, but the happy sigh Gerard gives him makes him smile in spite of himself.

“You're such a fucking girl,” Frank whispers at last, stroking Gee's hair back off his face as he stretches out his leg and winces.

“Leaves are slippery,” Gee pouts and sighs as he rotates his ankle slowly. “Frank, I'm sorry, I-”

“Forget it,” Frank sniffs, staring up at the trees, the sky, anything but Gerard in his arms, something he's dreamt about for weeks and it's not real, it's not going to last. “I get it, it's okay. You don't- You don't want me, because of... I get it, you need more than I could-”

Gerard freezes in his arms and shakes his head quickly, wrapping his arms over Frank's. “Frankie, I... I've wanted you since the first time we met, I just can't... It's dangerous, I know that you won't want me now, you deserve someone normal, not a freak-”

“A what?”

“It's fine, really,” Gee whispers, “you wouldn't be the first to realise I'm just... I'll never be normal and you deserve that.”

“Are you for fucking real?” 

“I know everything that happened tonight is crazy, and it's fine, I knew that if you found out you wouldn't want me-”

“You fucking _retard_.” Gee stops as Frank grabs his shoulders, pulling back from the embrace before scrambling over the path to straddle Gerard's outstretched thigh, bringing them face to face. “You thought I would, what, freak out? Call you a weirdo or something or hate you because of who, what, you are? You seriously thought I'd do that?”

“That's what happens, I fall for someone, they by some miracle overlook the geeky comic book thing and like me back, it's all going well and then I... I mess up, I do something, I use magic and they just... They leave. It's not just me,” he adds quickly, at the aghast look on Frank's face, “it's just the way it is. I'm... different, and nobody wants that.”

“You think I would be, what, too ashamed or embarrassed about you being a witch to want to go out with you?”

Gee nods weakly, confused, and Frank grabs his face tight, palms pressed against his cheeks and fingers in his hair.

“I should fucking punch you for that, you freaking intelligent _idiot_. You... I've wanted you since I just thought you were a nerdy comic boy dude, and not in spite of it, because of it, and now you're- You're not a freak, you're a fucking hero Gerard! What you did tonight, you, you were incredible! You saved her life!” Without thinking, Frank leans forward and kisses Gee's forehead, hard and short. “You protected us.” The next kiss is to the tip of Gee's nose, lopsided and sloppy, then his chin, his neck. “You went toe to toe with a fucking _Werewolf_ -”

This time it's Gee who moves, lunging up into the kiss, his hands reaching out to grab at Frank as though he's a life raft, clinging onto his t-shirt before sliding hands up inside his clothes, dragging at his back. Frank gives as good as he gets, holding on tight to Gee's face and kissing him back fiercely, weeks of pent up fear and tension and doubt exploding in one kiss.

He's been kissed before, 'course he has, but this- This is more than that, it's forgiveness and anger and redemption in one go, all mixed up in the taste of cigarettes and the smell of the chill grass and dying leaves and autumn and musty Earth. It's not polite, not hesitant at all, it's messy and hard and hurts, his lip splitting near the corner of his mouth as Gee misses and catches his teeth, it's not exactly pleasurable but it's what he needs. He needs the pain, he needs to know it's real, all of it, like a pinch to stop dreaming.

He needs to hurt, wants to, needs the physical to match his insides, needs the pressure of his growing erection to match the way his whole heart seems to be exploding. When Gerard's stubby, ink stained nails dig into his back, Frank hisses into his mouth but doesn't stop. Instead, his hands slide to Gee's neck, digging into his collarbone tightly, wanting to sink his teeth into the skin too. He wants to mark Gerard, wants to be marked in return, wants to wake up in the morning bruised and scratched and completely fucked up so he can prove to himself this night is real.

He's not sure how long the kiss lasts, snatched breaths sustaining them for what he is sure is forever. Time seems to be playing tricks with the full moon, moving in slow stretches then sudden gulps rather than straightforward tock follows tick. It's Frank who breaks off the kiss at last, rising up a couple more inches to break Gee's hold, feeling the nails scratch down his back as though trying to keep him there. The burn feels so good, almost bringing tears to his eyes but welcome, hot and fiery in his skin.

Gee's mouth worries at his neck instead, and it takes all Frank's effort to pull back, staring down at Gerard. They're both hard, he can feel it, and he knows he's been grinding and rocking against Gee, but it's not enough. And yet it's too much right now, too soon, too crazy. He can see from the look in Gee's eyes and the way his fingers are fucking digging into his ribs that all he has to do is ask, slide his fingers lower or just hiss two words and Gerard will do whatever he says, will give everything if Frank asks.

And fuck knows, he wants it too. Even here, amongst the leaves, in what is a public park on a bright night. It's dangerous and wild and crazy and he wants it so badly.

Instead, Frank forces himself to focus on the growing bruise on Gerard's lip from their kisses, his lips swollen and dark in the dim light, the shadows under his eyes and the hollows of his cheeks like Halloween make up. He can feel the tremble of Gee's hands and knows it's not just passion, it's exhaustion too.

“No,” Frank whispers at last, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Gerard's, fiercely hot and burning through him as his hands grip Gee's shoulders tight. “Not here. Not tonight.”

“I'm sorry-”

Frank swoops down again, kissing away the words and nipping lightly at Gee's already sore lip. “Don't ever be fucking sorry for this. Don't you fucking dare apologise for being you, or for... I'm not saying I don't want you.” Frank grins and grabs Gerard's hand from his back, pressing it tight against his crotch and trying not to groan at the pressure. Oh _fuck_ that's better but worse and _shit_ \- “It's pretty obvious I do.”

Gerard grins, and holy shit, its the hottest thing ever, so inviting and with a real effort Frank pulls their hands away and wraps their fingers together, crushing their arms between their bodies. “It's been a crazy day,” Frank whispers at last trying to explain, “I don't want you to think- It's not just an adrenaline thing or shit like that-”

“Relationships that start under intense circumstances, they never last,” Gerard whispers back, and Frank hesitates, half recognising the quote. 

“Speed?”

Gee grins and blushes and Frank can't help it, he licks a broad stripe up Gee's throat. “You fucking geek.”

As Gerard groans, deep and fucking filthy, Frank growls low in his throat and forces himself to climb back up off him, dragging himself to his feet with obvious reluctance. “You fucking gorgeous geek,” he corrects, extending a hand to help Gee up. “You really thought I wouldn't want you 'cause of this?”

“It's not easy-”

“Even Buffy got to have friends, and boyfriends and shit, Iron Man has Pepper, Peter Parker has Mary Jane, you seriously think mere mortals can't cope with you? I ain't gonna be afraid of you and I sure as Hell am not gonna start worshipping you or shit.”

Gerard just looks at him, with a slight frown on his face. “Mary Jane? Really?”

“Pepper's cooler, but y'know what, you're not a fucking X-Man Gee, you're not a freak, you're a guy who works in a comic book shop, and yeah, you're special and cool and can do that whole,” Frank waves his hands around in the air, “I dunno, powers thing, but you ain't all that. I mean, Mikey can fucking read minds, and Bob, with the whole Jedi thing? Healer is like the lamest battlefield character in a war game.” Grinning, Frank pulls him close again, pressing up against his body and enjoying the warmth, even if the smell of Bob's top is a little confusing. “Besides, I'm way prettier than you.”

“Are not,” Gee huffs, leaning in to kiss along Frank's neck. “I have it from a very reliable and cute source that I'm fucking gorgeous.”

“Yeah, you could be, if you washed occasionally.” The slap to Frank's ass is deserved, but he can't help grinning at it. “So,” he says firmly, “no basing a relationship on, what was it? Intense...”

“Intense circumstances.”

“Fine. We'll base it on mutual comic book geekiness and love of sci-fi, and horror movies and decent music and all the thousand and one other things we already have in common.”

“Okay.”

“And, someday, fucking intense sex too.”

Gerard groans again and lurches forward into another kiss and they're getting better, more considered and practised as they start to pick up on the things that makes the other react; the right place to nip lightly with teeth, the place where a slow swipe of tongue causes a moan, the slow suck of a lip-

“Wait,” Gee gets out at last, breathing hard. “What about Pete and Gabe?”

Frank pauses, confused. “You want an orgy with my best friends?”

“Fuck no, I mean... I thought...”

Laughing, Frank shakes his head and wriggles a little in Gee's lap. “No. Really, no, I mean, yeah, technically we...” Frank blushes, trying to think how to explain the mess that is his relationship with those two. “Uh, yeah, there was a bit of friends with benefits for a while but that was- We're not now-”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Gerard grins, relieved. “Oh yeah,” he sighs happily and pulls Frank in for another kiss, long and slow and Frank swears he can feel his toes curling in his sneakers and how much of a fucking cliché is that, but he doesn't care, he'll swoon like a Disney Princess if it means Gee carries on kissing him just like that-

“Enough,” Gerard gasps at last, pulling back. “Okay, if we don't stop soon, I'm not going to be able to. As it is, I'm gonna have trouble walking home.”

Frank laughs, high pitched and almost delirious, and has to bite back a hundred different ways he could offer to take care of that for Gerard. Instead, he forces himself to place one more, relatively chaste, kiss on Gerard's lips. “I'd better get home. But I'll text you.”

“Can I see you again soon?” Gee asks hopefully, as though they haven't been finding excuses to hang out as much as possible already. “Just us, I mean. Not the guys.”

Frank grins, almost dizzy at the thought of being alone with Gerard again. “Yes, fuck yes.” Then he closes his eyes and groans, and not in the good way. “Although I'm probably about to get my ass grounded for being so late, so might be a while-”

“I'll wait,” Gee says quickly, hugging Frank tight. “As long as it takes.”

Chuckling, Frank hugs back and kisses him, long and slow, somehow both of them knowing this really has to be the last of the night. When they stop, they both step back and straighten their clothes, trying to breathe properly and calm down. It takes a few seconds before Frank thinks he can even attempt to move, but hey, he's in High School, it's not like he hasn't had to walk with an unexpected boner before. Gee on the other hand looks as though he can barely stand up straight, and Frank has to try really hard not to think about just how big he might be under those jeans-

“Goodnight,” he whispers instead, backing away up the path as Gerard grins and waves back.

“Goodnight.” Frank backs away for as long as he can, but when he nearly hits a tree gives in and finally turns away. Forcing his hand into his pocket to press his dick down as much as he can, he heads home.

*************************************

Frank cuts through the cemetery as usual, running between the gravestones and wondering if somewhere in the past people really are shivering at him walking on their graves. Or if people who end up getting cremated ever get that feeling too.

Giggling to himself, he stops within sight of his bedroom window, fumbling through his bag for gum and deodorant to hide the lingering traces of cigarette smoke. He's about to get his ass handed for him for being out beyond curfew, no sense making it any worse than it has to be. Not if he wants to see Gerard ever again.

Gerard. Oh yeah, he definitely wants to do that again. Rubbing his thumb over his swollen lips, Frank can feel the idiotic grin on his face but doesn't fight it. Gee's a witch. He made out with a witch, a real life magic person, who can make forcefields like the invisible girl, heal like Wolverine – only better 'cause he can heal others too – and not only that, but a fucking gorgeous witch too. Frank has a million questions and wants to go back to the Way house, right now, and talk it through with them, all night.

Instead he tries his best to rearrange his grass and mud stained clothes, picking a damp leaf off his ass with a snort, and chewing his gum as fast as he can, pressing it against his teeth and tongue to get as minty as he can. He looks a mess, but perhaps excusable for a broken down car, maybe he slipped whilst they were push starting it, yeah that might work.

“You look well and truly ravished, Iero.”

Frank squeaks, jumping about a foot in the air (okay, an inch, but in his head it feels like something out of a cartoon and he should be swinging from a light fitting or a tree by now), and turns around. Choking on the gum, he spits it out quickly and leans on a grave, glaring daggers at the newcomer.

“You! Motherfucker, don't you ever knock?” 

The ghoul from Halloween laughs, shrugging before reaching out and rapping his knuckles against a gravestone. “Knock knock.” The ghoul costume is gone, his dark clothes appearing as a solid mass of black in the moonlight, but that grin is the same.

Catching his breath again, Frank swears softly. “What the fuck you doing here?”

“Insomnia,” the guy shrugs, staring up at the moon. “Just can't seem to get to sleep lately. So, taking a walk.”

“No, you mean you lurk and scare the crap out of me, thanks.” Grabbing his gum from the grass in an old receipt, Frank screws it up into a ball. “Enjoy your night, freak.”

Frank starts to walk away but the ghoul calls after him. “You still hanging out with Way?”

Sighing, Frank stops, anger starting to replace the fizzy joy that he's been floating on since heading home. “What's it to you?”

“They're not like us, Iero.” He can feel the guy creeping closer and wants to shudder. His very presence is like nails down a blackboard or a feedback hum, sending a chill through Frank. “You don't know what they're capable of.”

Frank snaps, spinning round and shoving the man away, sending him sprawling back against the stones. “Yeah, well maybe I know better than you fucking do, and maybe I don't have a problem with it, so maybe you should just back off!” 

The guy just laughs, staring up at him oddly. “Maybe you do. Maybe you don't. Should be a lotta fun watching you find out.”

“What the fuck is your problem? You got a problem with gays?”

Chuckling, he looks Frank up and down with an open leer, shifting to lie on his side in the grass like some bad seventies porn star. “Hell no. No problem at all.”

Ugh. Backing away, Frank winces and holds up his hands. “Great. Jealous then, whatever, just keep the Hell away from me, okay?”

“Your wish is my command,” the guy purrs, laughing again as Frank flips him off and runs for home and the grounding he knows he deserves. Then again, a couple of weeks away from the cemetery is probably a good idea right now anyway...

****************************************

Ray isn't allowed into the hospital room, but the nurse slips in and gets Bob for him, leaving Ray to stand awkwardly in a tiny waiting area for a few minutes. He still has leaves and bits of plant in his hair and his clothes are muddy, leading to him getting lots of strange looks as he passed through the hospital, but most people just write him off. It is a hospital after all, and gone midnight, not many people look their best under the weird lighting.

Bob finally emerges, looking just as much of a wreck as Ray, but at least his hand is clean and bandaged up, the dressing too thick around his fingers. His blue eyes are red rimmed, his dirty blond hair now just dirty, and his ever present layer of stubble doesn't hide the haggard look on his face. He can barely keep his head up, but he doesn't have to say a word.

Ray crosses the distance in two long strides, wrapping his arms around Bob silently and just hugging him tight, feeling him dissolve. Bob's whole body is one big tense muscle, trying to keep under control, but finally, here, he can let go, if only for a moment. Ray mutters soothing nonsense, reassurances and promises that it's going to be alright as Bob finally sheds tears of fear, anger and even relief, each one washing away some of the worries that have been killing him in pieces.

The stack of magazines on the table zoom off, the whole collection taking flight around the room like bizarre paper birds, the pot plant uproots and hits the opposite wall, the chairs all shift as though playing a reverse game of musical chairs with the two men as the fixed point; but in the centre of the storm Ray just holds Bob tight, ignoring the chaos and mess around them, the hurricane of Bob's rage playing out in full force, the rattling of the blinds almost but not quite drowning out the howl of rage escaping his lips.

Finally, the magazines start to droop lower and lower, coming in to land on the floor, the chairs stop jigging and the plant – well, the plant is pretty much leaning in the corner like a boxer on the ropes, but the room quiets, still again.

Bob looks up at last, his face a mess, but his eyes a little brighter as he gives Ray a weak smile. Ray just nods, and brushes the hair out of Bob's eyes and plants a soft kiss to his forehead. Letting go, Ray digs under the higgledy piggledy chairs for a box of tissues and throws them at Bob, who catches them with ease and turns his back as he cleans himself up. It takes Ray a couple of minutes to straighten out the room, the soil trail from the pot plant and a big puddle of spilt water from a jug on the side impossible to hide but what the Hell, he'll apologise to the nurse and get some help with that one.

By the time he's done, Bob is standing straighter too, his eyes bright as he retrieves the bin from Ray's hands and throws the tissues in. There's an anti bacterial hand gel thing on the wall and he cleans up his hand as best he can, then with one last sniff, nods to Ray, all business again, the weakness passed and the usual dour Bob returning.

“How is _it_?” Bob asks at last, a little snuffly.

“The collective are watching over the Wolf. Your dad will be here as soon as the sun rises and he's had a chance to clean up, my folks are gonna bring him.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“It wasn't his fault-” 

Bob waves it off, but there's still anger in his eyes. “I know, I know, it's not him, for fuck's sake Ray, I know that, I just-” Blowing out a deep breath, Bob closes his eyes. “If you guys hadn't got to her in time, I just left her there and ran and- It's my mom, Ray, I should've been able to stop it, I should've-”

“It's not your fault either, and you had to get it out of town, you did the right thing.”

“I know, I guess, just...” Opening his eyes again, Bob pushes it back. The anger is still there, Ray can see it, simmering behind his eyes but it's locked away for now. “Anyway, thanks.”

“Anytime,” Ray smiles, “you know that.”

“Yeah.” Bob smiles back, then shrugs. “Hey, you're two for two now. One more and we can go be a crime fighting team.”

It takes Ray a second to remember the conversation from the other day, and Bob's promise that if Ray could get three predictions right then they could look at making it a career. His laugh when it comes is loud, surprising in the quiet hospital, and Ray has to cover his mouth to try and stop it, but when Bob grins back, genuine and relaxed, it's worth it. Finally, Ray just nods and manages to keep his voice down again.

“With capes.”

“And leather.”

“No bright red spandex? Gee will be disappointed.”

“Gee can suck my balls,” Bob grumbles and heads for the waiting room door. “It's black or nothing.” Shrugging, Ray takes a seat and grabs a magazine. “You not coming?”

“Too many people or some shit,” Ray explains. “I'm cool, I'm gonna catch a few zees in here, then I'll take you home once your dad gets here.”

“You don't have to-”

“I'm staying,” Ray says firmly, putting his feet up on the seats and pretending to be absorbed in a year old copy of some celebrity magazine. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Right.” Bob wanders out again, heading back to the room, and Ray listens, counting to ten in his head, before throwing the magazine away and stretching out across the seats. Pulling his hood up to make a feeble pillow, Ray knows he's going to get mistaken for some sort of vagrant and woken up in an hour or so but hey, it's still an hours sleep. Closing his eyes, he's out before Bob is even sat down in his Mom's room again.


	5. Chapter 5

Frank is, of course, grounded, and his phone is confiscated. But only for a week; the broken down car excuse is accepted. He can handle a week. With the aid of emails and Mikey passing on messages in school (written of course, he's keeping his nose and mind well and truly out of his brother and friend's blossoming romance), he will get through it.

Mrs Bryar is in hospital for a couple of days, and gets what Bob refers to as a 'shitload' of blood. Bob can't donate because of the scratch (he had to get a booster shot for tetanus after claiming he hurt it on a garden rake) and tries to get the others to give blood instead. Which leads to a beautifully conflicted Gee, who wants to donate because it is the right thing to do, but can't because of the needles. Mikey teases him mercilessly about it, but stops after Gee almost faints walking into the Hospital just to _visit_ Mrs Bryar, as though he's sure needle wielding vampire blood bank zombies are going to attack him.

Actually the blood bank nurse is a very hot young student nurse, and even after she has to stick him three times Mikey gives her his number – and kind of hopes he will be able to do a more personal donation of bodily fluids later...

Mr Bryar is very pale and withdrawn, shocked at what the Wolf managed to do, but Bob reckons he'll get over it eventually. They work together on reinforcing the house and cleaning the place up though. It's not gonna happen again.

Mrs Way is suspicious, but proud. And angry that they didn't stay safe. So in revenge they have to promise to go help fix up the garden and replant or try and help fix all the plants they crushed.

Ray's mum is very proud of him and treats him to his favourite meal and steps up his practise with the crystal ball and mirrors, trying to build on his recent successes.

Mikey has a migraine for a day and complains that even a strange tabby cat he passes on the way to the shops is talking to him (and apparently wants to take over the world) but bounces back fairly quickly.

Gerard takes longer, sleeping for 36 hours straight (with a couple of zombie like bathroom and water breaks), and stays at home for a couple of days. This forces Charlie to actually run his own shop for a bit and miss the repeat of one of his favourite Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes where a hologram of Deanna Troi appears as 'the Goddess of Empathy' (Charlie has a thing for togas). Gee promises to draw him a whole Goddess portrait of Troi on the wall behind the shop desk as penance.

Speaking of drawing, whilst off sick, Gee draws cartoons and writes notes for Frank, sending them to school with Mikey every day to help Frank stay sane whilst grounded. Frank keeps asking him questions about the rules of being witches and such, and, to disguise the information 'should it fall into the wrong hands' Gee replies in the form of fictional comic strip characters. Frank has a feeling it is also a Hell of a lot simpler than it would be if he actually asked Gee in person; he loves the guy but seriously, he does go into way too much detail.

The weekend passes by and Frank is literally counting the days until his punishment ends and he can see Gerard again.

*****************************************

Frank hurries around the corner, out of sight of home at last, and picks up the pace as he spots a familiar figure on the corner. Running the rest of the way, he launches himself at Mikey and hugs him tight almost knocking him over. “Morning!”

“Fuck,” Mikey stumbles and pushes him back, shaking his head as they begin to walk to school. “I can't wait until you're allowed out again so Gerard can deal with this shit instead.”

“You love it really.” Frank grins as Mikey hands over a large brown envelope, the weight of papers and notebooks inside making Frank sigh happily as he digs into it. “Fucking A, did you give him the notes about his seventeenth?”

“I give him what you give me. I give you what he gives me. I do not look at any of it, I value my sanity.”

Snorting, Frank shoulder bumps him and sticks the envelope into his bag, saving it for later. “Whatever. So, I meant to ask, I mean I've been meaning to, what's the deal with the whole mind reading thing? I mean, you say you don't pry but is it always on and you have to block it, or is it something you have to concentrate on? And did you all like get your powers all at once, on your birthday, or over time?”

“Usually over time. Bob was really slow, wasn't until a couple of months after his birthday that he got pissed off at the coffee shop and cups started flying everywhere that we figured it out, and he still can't fully control it sometimes. Ray,” Mikey tries not to smile. “He was straight away but didn't put two and two together. He thought he was going crazy with deja vu until he realised he was dreaming and seeing things before they happened. Gee was sort of a mix of fast and slow, he picked up on people's pain straight away but didn't know what to do about it for ages.”

“How'd he figure it out?”

“I broke my foot.” Frank snorts and Mikey resists the urge to hit him. Broken feet are _painful_. “Nan reckons because we're so close, he just knew what to do to fix me.” Mikey lowers his voice a little. “He does that.” He pauses for a second, then shrugs. “As for me...” Rolling his eyes, Mikey twists his head from side to side and tries to think how to describe the mess that is his mind. Frank's used to this now and just waits patiently for him.

“I got it all at once, full blast. It's always on but...” His pace slows as he thinks, his voice as monotone as always, but his gaze thoughtful as he tries to find the words. “It's like being at a club or busy bar, or like the cafeteria. It's always noisy, but so much so you can't actually make anything out. You sort of let it wash over you mostly.”

“Like white noise.”

“Yeah. When I first heard it it was deafening and I literally couldn't hear anyone talking to me over the noise in my head but now... I guess it's like living near the sea or an airport or some shit, you get used to the noise and don't even notice it.”

“How d'you hear anything then?”

“Same way you learn to pick out a single part when a whole band's playing I guess,” Mikey says, “you practice, and you just learn to hear better. Hearing people's thoughts, it's like the crowded bar, you hear voices you know clearer than anyone else, you recognise them even through the crowd and hone in. And if someone says your name it gets your attention.”

“Cool. So you can do it without being near someone?”

“It's easier if I know someone, if I can like picture them in my head. The closer they are to me, the easier it is to hear them, but sight is better, touch is clearest.” Mikey doesn't react as Frank brushes the back of his fingers along Mikey's arm and stares at him.

_*Like that?*_

_*Yeah*_

Frank grins goofily and shakes his head. “Man, that is still so weird. Can you talk like that to everyone?”

“If you heard my voice in your head, and didn't know about me, what would you think?”

“That I'd imagined it,” Frank admits. “Oh.”

“Yeah, best to avoid it.”

“But Gee said you can't read him.”

Mikey takes a deep breath and blows it out, a small frown line between his eyes the only reaction on his face. “Gerard is... Different.”

“'Cause he's your brother?”

“Because he's a healer and defender, he... He can stop things, it's like he has forcefields-”

“Yeah, I saw it and he explained, it's pretty cool.”

“But they stop me getting through to him, I bounce off them. Unless he lets me in, or really focuses on me, or is really weak or tired, like out of his head. And even then he always knows I'm in there and can just chose to stop me. He can even stop me reading anyone at all if he wants.”

“Oh.” Frank pauses, thinking that one through. “So when you first tuned in-”

“It was too much,” Mikey admits quietly, “I nearly went crazy. But Gerard protected me, gave me time to adjust and learn how to hold it back.”

“Lucky.”

Snorting, Mikey takes in the approaching school gates and shrugs. “Depends on who you talk to. Apparently loads of siblings get complementary powers so might be a genetic thing, or according to folks like Ray, everything happens for some reason, you just don't always get to know what it is. So he reckons Gee is a defender so that he could look after me when I got my powers.”

“Makes sense.” _*If you believe in all that fate crap*_

Mikey snorts, and Frank grins at him, not even a little apologetic.

“You really don't buy into it at all?” Mikey asks.

“I get that there can be, like, a certain way things are heading but it's in my control. My choices, not some mysterious fucking force deciding my destiny and shit. No fate but what we make, right?”

“Sounds good to me.” The bell rings and Frank sighs.

“Okay, so maybe there are some things in my fate I don't choose.”

“Like calculus?”

“And Shakespeare.” Hefting his bag on his shoulder, Frank shrugs. “"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Grinning, Frank tosses him a salute and hurries off up the steps. “See you at lunch!”

******************************

“I am getting really sick of this.” Mikey Way tosses the pile of scraps of paper and two notebooks down onto the counter at the comic book store and tries not to notice the way his brother lights up and grabs them eagerly. He's actually hugging the notebook to his chest, for fucks sake. Sometimes Mikey would swear HE is the older one. “You are such a teenage girl.”

“Don't care,” Gee sing songs happily, jumping up to sit on the counter, banging his heels against the side. “It's such an old fashioned style of communication, you really have to think about your answers, it's more romantic, like soldiers going off to war and only being able to send letters home to their loved ones-”

Mikey raises one eyebrow, glancing at the comic strip Gerard has been working on. Somehow, cartoons trying to explain the nature of the collective and Gee's powers in exchange for front line reports from High School don't quite match WWII heroism and sacrifice. And he isn't impressed with his own role as carrier pigeon either.

“-it's also more lasting than email or text, it's physical, and personal, secret, you can actually touch it, and you hear all those stories about bundles of love letters tied up with ribbon, or the whole dear Juliet thing-”

Mikey knows that if he doesn't head Gerard off at the pass he is in for an entire lecture on the nature of the written word, romance in history, the art of love letters, and maybe, if he's very unlucky, having some of Frank's notes read aloud so Gerard can interrogate him as to what Frank _means_ by that, what was he thinking about at the time, did he mention Gee, does he miss Gee, does he _really_ miss Gee-

“Troi looks good.”

“Huh?” Gerard pauses, confused, then turns to the wall behind the counter where his sketched outline of the 'Goddess of Empathy' is taking shape. “Oh, the Counsellor, I thought you meant the city of Troi, which was a twisted love story in its own right-”

“I just spent all day in class, can we please not do historical romance and literature right now?”

Grinning, Gee ducks his head and nods, piling the stack of notes from Frank into his bag. “Sorry. I just... It's so cool getting to know Frank this way too, I mean, I like know him, but this is-”

“Different, I get it.” Sighing, Mikey can feel a headache coming on. “Can we just go already, we're supposed to be popping round to Bob's tonight so we can drop off the last of the Halloween stuff, and we can't stay that late, his mom still needs to rest.”

“Right.” Gerard pales slightly, nodding quickly as he starts grabbing his things to shut up the shop, and Mikey can hear it, just the faintest whisper in his mind, but it's Gerard's voice. Concentrating, he watches as Gee starts to flick out the lights.

_*-blood, there's so much, all over my hands, Oh God, help me,*_

“Gee-”

“Don't,” Gerard whispers back, shaking his head. Mikey doesn't ask how he knows; Gerard always knows. Mikey can flit in and out of anyone's mind but his brother's and for him to hear this it must be so loud in Gerard's head, all he can think of. “I'm okay.”

“Liar.”

“Fine,” Gerard snaps, slamming down the shutters behind the windows, blocking Iron Man and Jean Grey and the Hulk and half of Marvel's cast out of the shop. “I'm still processing it, okay? It was a big deal, I've not... It just brought back some memories, okay?”

“Bert?” Sighing, Gerard nods, his shoulders hunched as he keeps his back to Mikey. “That wasn't your fault-”

“I know, it was an accident. And Mr Bryar didn't mean to nearly kill his wife, and nana didn't mean to nearly kill the football team and if she could remove the curse she would, and if Great Great Granddad had learned to keep his mouth shut he wouldn't've been cast out-”

_*Oh for the love of God, just shut UP!*_

Gee stops short, turning around slowly, his mouth wide open in shock as Mikey just stares him down.

“Gee, shit happens.”

“Shit... Happens.” Gerard swallows hard. “Shit. _Happens?_ ”

“Great Great whatever Granddad was an idiot, who would've been in trouble for drinking too much even if he hadn't been magic, the football team deserved it, and the curse will probably break of its own accord when, I dunno, some jock pulls the sword from the fucking stone or is actually nice to a geek, Mrs B knew the risks when she chose to marry Mr B, and as for Bert-” Taking a deep breath, Mikey shrugs at last. “You didn't force him to drink the best part of a bottle of vodka then get behind the wheel.”

“I didn't stop him.”

“You tried. You tried, and you beat yourself up so much over what happened to him that we nearly lost YOU. And you _did_ save Mrs Bryar. And if our ancestors hadn't been forced to get out of Europe, we wouldn't be here right now, and you wouldn't be getting ready to date Frank motherfucking Iero, who is crazy about you and driving me insane talking about it. So can we please just go to Bob's, muck around with face paint, eat pizza and be fucking _normal_ for once?”

Gerard is still kind of frozen, staring at Mikey with a stupid look on his face, but then he grins a little shyly. “He's crazy about me?”

Rolling his eyes, Mikey gives up and goes round the counter to finish grabbing Gee's stuff and locking up the shop himself. “I'll get him to write you a love letter about it,” putting on a silly voice, he continues, “Dear Gewowd, I weally weally lub woo, will you be my boyfwend?”

Laughing, Gerard grabs him and puts him into a headlock, almost knocking his glasses off. “Fuck off.”

“You first.” Wriggling free at last, Mikey rescues his glasses from the end of his nose and adjusts his hair as Gerard finally finishes closing up the shop. He's smiling again, humming under his breath and Mikey joins in, the moment forgotten.

But as Gee's hand brushes past his as he helps with the final shutter, all Mikey can taste is the metallic cling of blood.

**********************

Gerard is nervous as he pushes the half open door and peers through into the bedroom beyond. “Mrs Bryar? Bob said you wanted to see me-”

“Gerard!”

Stepping through into the room, he smiles as she sits up in the bed, her hand hovering over her side protectively as she adjusts the sheets, but the colour in her face is a welcome sight. It's more than that though, she _feels_ so much better, just a stiffness to his ribs hinting at the discomfort she is still in from the wound.

“How're you doing now?”

Patting the side of the bed, she smiles at him and nods. “Much better, thanks to you.”

“It wasn't-” Gee starts, shaking his head, but she reaches out and grabs his hand and he has to resist the urge to melt into her and send her more of his strength.

“Yes. It was.” Letting go, she pats his hand, as though spotting his discomfort, and pulls back. “We're both very grateful Gerard, our family owes you a lot. Which is why we, um, we wanted to talk to you first. Without the collective.”

Gerard swallows hard, recognising that tone; he's heard it in his own mother's voice before, the 'you've done something wrong but I don't think we need to tell your father/grandmother/teachers now do we' voice.

“Who is he?”

Gee starts, not sure what she's talking about then panics, his face trying to choose between bright red and deathly pale and opting for weird and blotchy; do they know about how he feels about Frank? Is he about to get some sort of gay sex chat from his friend's _mom_?

“I, uh, what, I mean, who, uh-”

“Gerard, in the house. Here. And at the Garden. There was an outsider in our house, and at the Garden, the Wolf smelt him, and sweetheart, if it was a friend of yours or something, we know it was an emergency and _it's okay_ , but we just need to know... Who knows about us?”

“Who knows...” Gerard can feel his breath coming out in a long sigh and smiles a little shakily. “Oh! You mean- That night- No, no, it's not a hunter or anything, it's a friend, he's safe! It's Frank, he's a friend of Mike- Ours, he wouldn't- We trust him. Mikey trusts him.” Leaning forward, he takes her hand in his again. “He knows about us, he's cool with it, and Mikey has checked him out, he's making sure he's not freaking or anything, and Frank wouldn't tell anyone, I promise. He's a good person.”

She closes her eyes and leans back, relaxing, and lets out a long breath too. “Thank goodness. For a moment we thought maybe-” Shaking her head again, she opens her eyes and smiles. “Thank you for being honest with me Gerard. We weren't sure it wasn't just a transfer of scent at first, Mr B even suggested it might be that one of you youngsters had a new boyfriend or something-”

He's on fire, he's sure of it, his face flaming up, but either it isn't or she is discretely choosing not to notice. Mothers. They always know just how to hint at these things without actually saying it.

“-Anyway, you didn't come here to keep me company, go on, the boys will need you soon, they must have finished sorting out the store by now.”

“I can stay a little longer,” Gee says, holding her hand a little tighter. “Do you need... I mean, do you want...”

Shaking her head, she pats his hand again then gently lifts it off of hers. “I'm fine, Gerard, but thank you. Save your strength, Bob said it took a lot out of you. And I'm fine now, modern medicine can do wonders too you know.”

“Nan slipped you some extra painkillers didn't she?” Gerard says shrewdly, spotting a slightly distant look in her eyes.

“I don't know what you mean, young man.” Smiling sleepily, she pushes him away. “Now go, have fun! I gave Bob some money for you all to get Pizza later, I know it's not much of a thank you-”

“It's great, thanks Mrs B!”

“Gerard-” She hesitates as he pauses at the door, his hand on the wall beside it. “You've got a very special gift. Don't ever forget that.”

“I won't.”

With one last wave, he slips out again and pads down the stairs to join the others in Bob's room on the ground floor, the sounds of Bob's music already filtering through into the hallway.

*************************************

Frank waits until his mom is in her room, the soft whisper of her little TV echoing through his wall, before breaking the latest packet of notes from Gee out of his school bag. He is already changed for bed, just lurking under the covers waiting for the coast to be clear. Being grounded sucks but this part is almost worth it.

Ripping open the envelope, Frank grins as a small pile of notes and a couple of notebooks slide out onto the bed. A good haul. Flicking through the loose pieces of paper, he lines up the scrawled numbers in the corner and gets them into order, Gee's messy script covering the small torn out pages.

Reading through it, Frank snorts at the stream of consciousness that greets him, Gee letters as flitting as his attention in person, darting from a progress report on the new mural for the shop, (complete with a rough draft sketch) to an update on the new comics that came in that week, to a report on how Mrs Bryar is doing and the latest gossip from the internet.

The pages run out, leaving the two notebooks behind and Frank grins as he picks the black one up first. Inside the front cover is a synopsis for a story, a plot arc outlined, but he knows it's a cover, just a disguise in case the book should fall into the wrong hands. Flicking through the pages, Frank barely notices the occasional line of his own handwriting, asking questions, amongst the pages of Gee's replies and doodles.

Mikey calls the book the idiot's guide to Magic, but Frank doesn't care. Its pages contain his first introduction to the guys' world and he studies every page with an eagerness that would frankly shock any of his teachers. Finding his last question, he rereads his own writing to remind himself where they were.

_So magic runs in families, do you ever get muggle borns like in HP? And squibs?_

Gerard's reply fills the pages, complete with little family tree diagrams and doodles of a slightly demonic baby Mikey and toddler Gee.

_No muggle borns I'm afraid; Magic's strictly genetic, you can't be magic unless you have it in your heritage. There have been cases of orphans who didn't know their parents growing up unaware, but once a collective makes contact with them they usually find their parents or relatives were known to somebody. That's another reason why collectives are important, so if anything happens or your type of magic is dangerous or too much to control (like Mikey's) there's always someone around to help teach you._

_Squibs, yeah and no, depends on your parents, if its just a dad who is magic his kids will have very little magic, or even none, whereas if your mum has it you will be much stronger. Two magic parents is strongest obviously, but generally speaking it's stronger in a female line than a male. My nan is very powerful and my mum was too before she had me, so Mikey and I are strong, but if we had kids with a normal girl they'd probably be normal. Never know though, sometimes it goes funny!_

_But it is possible for a witch to lose her powers, when she has kids she will either grow stronger after the birth (like the baby's magic has fed back into her and she will pick up traits of their powers) or she will lose some of her powers and pass them on to her kids. Mum was a healer when she was younger but when she had me she lost most of her powers, though she is still wicked good with potions and that sort of cure, she just doesn't have like healing hands any more._

_Biggest downside of this? Collectives like to matchmake younger witches and wizards together to keep the lines strong, Which pretty much means loads of not subtle hints about how cute certain girls are. Worse than family weddings. The elders want to set me and Mikey up with these two sisters..._

Frank quickly stifles a laugh at the cartoon girls, both big eyed and vacant looking blondes with thing 1 and thing 2 across their cheerleader outfits. One has a speech bubble saying 'I see dead people' and the other says 'I can do pointless things with crystals'.

_-two sisters who scare the shit out of me tbh. And even Mikey thinks they're dumb and you know what his taste is like._

Another doodle of Mikey, winking off the page and grinning with a speech bubble saying 'How you doin' makes Frank chuckle again.

_Suppose it must be worse for the girls, they know if they have kids they could lose their powers but there's all this pressure to have them. They go easier on guys as if we don't get with a witch we're kindof written off anyway. We have a way out._

Frank thinks through the answer and nods to himself, digging a pen out of his school bag and scribbling in the corner of the page to make it work – then promptly chucking it across the room at his bin before finding another one and trying again. Chewing on the end, and trying hard not to think how much more satisfying a cigarette would be in his mouth right now, Frank considers his next question before writing it down.

_“Do any magic folk ever leave the collective, like stop doing magic at all and just be a normal boring accountant with the wife and kids?”_

Closing the notebook, he slips it back into the envelope to pass to Mikey and grabs the other one. This one is red and has a doodle of his own face on the front, sticking its tongue out and staring with slightly screwed up eyes at the reader. It's better quality than the other one, a small ribbon bookmark showing his place and he flicks to it easily. This time, the majority of the handwriting is his, the questions Gee's. Just as he is finding out about Gee's world, Gee is asking about his.

And Frank knows which way round he prefers.

The questions have been easy enough so far, about his family, his parent's divorce, how he met Pete and Gabe, but he knows he's been on borrowed time until the real questions start. As he looks at the new writing he sighs. Time's up.

_So why did you move here?_

Wriggling uncomfortably, Frank picks up the pen and starts to write. He could consider lying, but he knows full well a decent google search will find the local news report on his 'incident', and somehow he'd rather Gee got the truth from him than trying to fill in the gaps in an over sensationalised and frankly biased news report (one of his attacker's dads edited the paper).

Trying to push away the emotions behind the words, Frank begins to write.

***********************************

“Did you know about this?”

Mikey doesn't bother looking up from where he is sprawled on his bed. He has long since given up on the idea of privacy; it's as if Gerard likes to make up for the fact that Mikey can slip into people's heads unannounced by barging into his room in the same way, just to make him respect his space more.

He has also long since given up on understanding most of what his brother says.

“Know about what?” Not looking up from his magazine he just listens to Gerard pace before a printout of a local paper website slams down on top of his page. It's not much, just a few lines about a school kid getting injured in a fight, provoked by his making a 'gay pass' at another boy. There's the usual homophobic bullshit about the guys defending themselves against the evil gay, all names withheld due to police investigation yadda yadda.

The whole tone of the piece makes it sound like the kid was the perp, and a vigilante mob just put him in his place, but reading between the lines even Mikey can recognise a set up when he sees it.

“Sick.”

“Did you know?”

Sighing slightly, Mikey looks up, a small frown line between his eyes. “That the world is a fucked up place?”

“That they did this to Frank, that this shit is why he's here, this-” Gee stabs the page with a finger, “this is what he's running away from, these fucking morons are why he had to move schools!”

Mikey feels for Frank, really he does, but he knows the guy, inside and out, and it's not like he walks around with a sign saying 'emotionally scarred' on his forehead, on either side of the skin. “He's fine.”

“He's not fine! They beat him up, then left him tied to a fuckin' goal post in a storm!”

Watching Gee pace, Mikey can see the instinctive blue flashes of shields flickering along the edges of Gee's clenched fists, dancing over his knuckles like static sparks. He gets it, he does, but still, he doesn't see the need to get so overprotective.

“Gee.” Mikey sighs as his brother carries on pacing, accidentally knocking things off of Mikey's desk as he passes, his shields catching them and pushing them along. “Gerard.” Concentrating, the little frown line between his eyes increases as he stares.

_*GERARD!*_

“What?”

“I know you and Frank have this whole,” Mikey circles one hand in an all encompassing gesture, “thing, but he's fine. Honest. He's not some tormented soul. He's a sarcastic, goofy little pain in the ass sometimes, but he's no more fucked up than the rest of us.”

“But what if he's just being strong and brave and-”

Mikey's snort is loud enough to make Gee glare at him. “He's not. Trust me. What you see is what you get; he says what he thinks, except for when he's doing a shit job of hiding how he feels about you.” Handing the page back, he returns to his magazine. “Not everyone is a brooding mass of guilt and self fucked-up-ness like you, Gee.”

“I don't brood.”

Another snort and Mikey looks up and sure enough, his brother is full on pouting for goodness sake. It's not a good look on him.

“Whatever.”

“I don't!”

Turning back to his magazine, Mikey ignores Gerard stomping out and mentally starts counting the hours until Frank is free again and his carrier pigeon days are over.

**********************************************

Frank falls into step alongside Mikey on Friday, aching for the weekend to not just be here but to be over already so his punishment will be lifted and he can actually go out again. And see Gee. He accepts the offered books with a gleeful smile that fades a little as he spots the printout sticking out from one of the pages.

Fucking google.

“Your old school sucked,” Mikey says simply, understating things as always.

“Yep.”

“You suing them or anything?”

Shrugging, Frank shoves the books into his bag and buries his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Thought about it, but couldn't really afford it, plus mom's boss fired her for taking so much time off when I was in hospital anyway. Made sense to go for a fresh start instead.”

“Seems to be going well so far.”

Laughing, Frank nods back, twisting his bag on his back. “Like you wouldn't believe. Makes it a lot easier to forgive and forget and all that shit when it turns out to have led to one of the best things ever happening to me.”

“That's my brother, dude.”

Nudging against Mikey's shoulder, sending him staggering a little away, Frank grins wider. “Sorry, but that ain't even close to TMI time.”

“Let's keep it that way. Speaking of Gee...”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah.”

“He took it badly huh?” Mikey just raises an eyebrow and Frank sighs. “Oh come on, really? I knew he'd be pissed but figured not doing it in person might help, but oh no, he has to have a hissy fit.”

“He's a healer and a defender, course he took it badly, he wants to protect people.”

“Yeah but this is more than that,” Frank says quickly, gesturing as he walks, “he has this whole hero guilt complex thing going on. He's like the bastard love child of the entire team of Avengers sometimes, and that's hot, I'll admit, but also pretty fucked up.”

Shrugging, Mikey slows as they approach the school, the thickening flow of students making it harder to continue in private. “That's Gee.”

“Tell him I'm no fucking damsel in distress.”

“Already done, he'll be cool by Monday. His spats usually only last a couple of days.”

“He'd better be,” Frank grumbles, “I already feel like the shitty mascot of the group, no way I'm being the ankle twisting girl too.”

Smiling with just the edges of his lips, Mikey shakes his head. “You're not the mascot Frank.”

“Thanks.”

“Pet, maybe...”

“Fuck you, Way.”

“I'll leave that to my brother,” Mikey mutters and Frank laughs, lowering his voice as they drift closer to buildings.

“Maybe I could be your Alfred, or like Coulson or Fury, your, I don't know-”

“Babysitter? It's not like we're out saving the world every night Frank, and none of us are millionaires.”

“You totally could though,” Frank says quickly, “save the world and all. I mean, why have all this-” Mikey glares at him and he sighs and grabs his wrist instead.

_*all these powers if you don't use them?*_

_*That's not how it works*_

The bell rings, making them both jump and Frank lets go, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay, but maybe it should be.” Shifting his bag, he tosses off a salute and runs off up the steps, leaving Mikey behind.

“That's not how it works,” he mutters to no one in particular, before heading on into school.

*************************************************

Frank is fidgety Sunday, his eyes flickering to the clock and whilst it's usually very unlike him to long for Monday, at least when there's school involved, he finds himself willing the weekend away so he can go out again. Or at least have his phone back and make sure his mom hasn't read anything she shouldn't have on his texts.

As he plays with his dinner, his mom watches him closely. “Frankie, you okay?”

Nodding, he toys with his spaghetti and glances out the window at the setting sun. “Just missing my friends, you know? I mean, I know I deserve it,” he says quickly, holding his hands up, “totally, I screwed up, do the crime do the time and all that-”

“Especially so soon after I let you have that weekend with the older boys.”

“Yeah,” Frank admits, ducking his head. “I just, I'm looking forward to it being over.”

“You sure that's all it is?” Frank sighs, looking up at his mom from under his fringe.

“The docs did say I was gonna be alright, didn't they?”

“What?” She asks, startled.

“I dunno, you've just been all tense lately and looking at me like I'm gonna grow an extra head. Making me paranoid.”

“Oh Frankie, no, there's nothing wrong, I mean, not unless you've noticed anything...”

Rolling his eyes, Frank pushes his plate away. “Mom, I'm fine, I promise. I just miss my friends.”

Sighing, she looks at his half eaten dinner and nods. “Just promise me, if anything is wrong, you can talk to me about anything, no matter how... weird it may seem. Okay?”

Frank goes red, he can feel it, and seriously, no, no way is he gonna discuss his hopefully soon to be very active love life with her. “Yeah, uh, sure.”

Smiling at him, his mom relaxes a little, then looks at his plate again and sighs. “Oh go on then.”

“Huh?”

Standing up, she goes over to the kitchen drawers and slide out the bottom one, retrieving his confiscated mobile from under the mess of random kitchen and DIY stuff in there. “Go on, go see your friends. You're starting to make me depressed moping around like this!”

“For real?” Handing his phone to him, she ruffles his hair as he grins so widely his cheeks hurt.

“For real. Now go, before I change my mind.”

“Mom, I-” Standing so fast his chair almost falls over, Frank gives her a hug, clinging on tight and rocking her back and forth as she laughs. “You're the greatest! I love you!”

“I should hope so too!” Planting a kiss on his forehead, she pushes him away. “Now, I'm sure I heard you say something about a movie night at Mikey's house tonight, if you hurry you might catch them before it gets to the good bit.”

“Mom, you-”

“Move it Iero!” Laughing, Frank pulls back, kissing him mom before stumbling out of the kitchen and hurrying up the stairs to get his shoes, texting Mikey as he runs and unable to believe his luck. Changing out of his beat up old clothes he's been in all weekend, Frank runs a brush through his hair, another over his teeth, just in case, and hops around his bedroom trying to get his sneakers on. Ten minutes later, he's out the door and running, and just hopes he hasn't missed the start of The Blob.

**************************************

Mikey's phone beeps and he checks it, fighting back the smile he can feel as he reads the text. Instead, he discreetly tucks it back into his pocket and stretches, yawning widely. “I'm gonna get some more snacks.”

Gee doesn't even notice, engrossed in the film, but Ray throws Mikey a questioning look. Concentrating, Mikey lets him know Frank is on the way, and Ray throws him a quick grin before standing up. “I'll help you with that.”

About five minutes later, Bob looks up suddenly, frowning, then steps over Gee's legs, heading up the stairs too.

“Bob?”

“Bathroom.”

Alone, Gee shrugs to himself and carries on watching the film, dropping bits of popcorn down his top without really noticing. “Hey guys, hurry up, you're gonna miss the bit where she screams!”

“I've already seen it.” The voice surprises him, Gerard twisting in his seat on the bed, more popcorn shifting down his clothes and onto the covers.

“Frank?”

Frank is waiting in the doorway, grinning at him, hands in his pockets. “Hey.”

“But-” Gee's brain is short circuiting somewhere, he's sure, the soundtrack of the film providing a crazy background to his thoughts as they try to make some sense, then send words that make sense to his mouth. “Grounded, but, you-” They fail, and Frank laughs as he comes closer, stepping over the abandoned bowls and glasses until he is standing over Gerard. “But, tomorrow, you're coming round tomorrow, I-”

Taking the bowl of popcorn off him, Frank places it safely on the floor before placing his hands on Gee's shoulders. “Time off for good behaviour.”

“Right.” Gee looks stunned, his hands reflexively reaching out to grasp Frank's hips. “Right.”

Shaking his head slowly, Frank slides his hand up over Gerard's neck to hold his face gently. “Surprise. Good surprise?”

“Good. Definitely good,” he manages to stutter out as Frank leans down to kiss him, soft and careful, as though afraid it will break him completely. It takes Gee a second to catch up, his brain still trying to process the unexpected sight of Frank, but then his body tells his brain to take the night off and takes over, his hands tugging on Frank's hips to pull him closer with surprising force.

Frank laughs, breaking the kiss, as he topples onto the bed beside Gee, their legs tangled up as he tries not to land on him. “You still want to try this then.”

“This?” Gee asks with a grin, pulling Frank closer and staring at him as though afraid he's going to vanish.

“Us.” Frank strokes a finger down Gee's throat before holding his face again. “Even though I'm a muggle and you're-”

“Different?”

Chuckling, Frank shakes his head. “Amazing.”

“Amazing.” Gerard swallows hard, looking at the angles of Frank's face in the dim light of the TV, the black and white movie casting odd shadows over his face. “You're pretty amazing yourself.”

“I know.”

Laughing, Gee pulls him closer, pressing up against his body and pushing aside the little voice at the back of his head warning him that this is a bad idea, that he will end up getting hurt. The guys are right; he's been alone long enough. As Frank kisses him again, his hands sliding over Gee's body with desperate tugs and scrapes, Gerard can feel something breaking inside him, a wall he didn't even realise was there starting to topple, and then there's Frank, just Frank, and oh, he's blinding-

“Gee?”

He can feel the goofy grin on his face as he stares at Frank, fingers running over the lines of his jaw, but he can't quite bring himself to stop. “You're beautiful.”

Snorting, Frank tosses his hair back and grins. “Fuck yeah I am.”

“No, I don't-” Snuggling in closer, Gee nuzzles at his neck and kisses along to Frank's ear. “Inside. You're so beautiful.”

Sighing happily, Frank flips over onto his back and pulls Gerard with him, wrapping around him. “Baby, you have no idea how much I wanna show you that, but there's a couple of very good reasons we should take this slow.”

Pouting, Gee nods. “We shouldn't rush into anything.”

“Even though we've had like a week, or two months, of solid foreplay winding us up.” Gerard bites his lip at the memory and Frank growls, flipping them again and pinning Gee to the bed, hands grabbing his wrists to hold him firm. “But other than that, even more importantly-”

“I'm magic and haven't really done this since I got my powers, so we should be, y'know, careful.”

“True,” Frank acknowledges, thinking, “I mean if you throw me across the room I'm not gonna like it, but that wasn't what I meant, I was-” He pauses, frowning. “Wait a sec, since you got your powers? But that was like, what, four years ago?”

“About that,” Gerard admits, going red even in the monochrome lighting.

“You haven't... In four _years?_ ” Frank splutters. “Holy shit.”

“Thanks.”

“But you, you're- Fuck.”

“Well no, or it wouldn't've been four years-”

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” Frank grins, shaking his head. “Four years. We are so gonna do something about that.”

“Yes please,” Gee smiles back, lunging up for a kiss even as Frank sits up, straddling him and holding him down still.

“But the real reason we should take this slower, y'know, not rush into anything too... heavy, the one I was actually thinking of, is your brother and best mates are right upstairs and knowing Mikey, picking up on most of the thoughts going through my head. And trust me, they are definitely not family friendly.”

Gerard winces, having forgotten that whilst _his_ thoughts are safe, it really, really wouldn't be fair on Mikey to do anything whilst he's in the house. “He can stop himself looking though, or I can block him for you, I mean I should be able to concentrate enough-”

“Let's not risk it,” Frank laughs, letting go of Gee's wrist long enough to bop him on the head gently. “Exhibitionist.”

“Tease.”

“Oh Gee, baby, you think this is teasing? Just wait until we start the movie again.” Growling low in his throat, Gerard throws his head back and snarls, staring up at the ceiling.

“Fuck.” Snagging one last kiss off Frank, he tries to make the most of it, but all too soon there's a deliberately loud clatter of footsteps and voices at the top of his stairs, Ray all but shouting to Mikey even though Gerard's sure they're right next to each other. Sighing, they let go and Frank scoots back off of Gerard, settling on the end of the bed before Gee joins in. By the time the others noisily come back, they could almost just be chilling out as normal.

If they weren't holding hands anyway.

“All sorted?” Bob asks gruffly, tossing a bag of chips across the room for Frank to catch one handed.

“Nowhere near, but I'll cope,” Frank mutters, grinning like an absolute idiot as the guys resume their places around the room, the movie still running as drinks get shuffled and silence falls again. But by the time the credits roll, Frank is curled up against Gee's side, his hand splayed across his chest, and his eyes closed and a smile on his face.

Because whilst Mikey, Ray, Bob and Gerard may be special, Frank is different.

And here, that's not a problem at all.


End file.
